The Perfect Man
by LetsChaseCars
Summary: AU/AH:Elena Gilbert has been in love with her friend Stefan since she can remember.When the news of his engagement with her friend Caroline crush her,she commits the first selfish act of her life-she hires Damon Salvatore to steal Caroline's heart away.But what if Damon is not only a perfect looking man, but the perfect fit for her,too?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_"Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining the future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present." - John Green_

* * *

I remember the day I realized I was in love with Stefan as if it were yesterday.

_7 Years Ago._

_I heard his Porsche's tires come to an abrupt halt and rolled my eyes, pissed off. I needed a new hiding place. The cemetery had turned old, pretty fast. Every time I went 'missing', those who cared enough to notice knew instantly where to look. And then Stefan would come, knight in shining Porsche, and bring a smile on my face, when all I wanted was to be left alone and listen to sad, emo music. _

"_You ruined my date Gilbert." He sat next to me, facing my parents' gravestones, and frowned seriously._

"_I don't remember doing so, Mikaelson. Who told you I was gone this time?"_

_It was a 50/50 guess between Jenna and Jeremy. More like 80/20, when I came to think of it – Jeremy wasn't having an easy time either. My absence 24/7 was the least of his problems. I snapped the diary lying on my legs closed and looked judgingly into his green eyes. I wouldn't last long, I knew, but I could at least throw a couple of cold daggers with my eyes before giving in to his manners and charm. _

"_I had a feeling." He shrugged. _

_Sign number one that Stefan had stopped being my best friend a long time ago. _

"_You had a feeling?" I mocked, though my heart had missed couple of beats. "So, I didn't ruin your date. You ruined your date. Who was it?"_

"_She was just a girl from my history class. I think she was more interested in my car, though."_

_Stefan and his riches. Stefan and his green eyes. Stefan and his gentle smile. Stefan and those sinfully perfect abs, which should not– under any circumstances – belong to a seventeen year old boy. Yeah, those simple sentences summarized the reason he was the hottest piece of ass in Mystic Falls, perfectly. _

_No one knew him inside out like I did, though. I was too proud of the fact and I had every reason to be. _

"_And you were only interested in what she physically had to offer, or you wouldn't have sabotaged your date."_

"_Hey!" he threw his arms around me, the moment a soft breeze gave me the slightest of shivers. That felt good._

_Sign number two that Stefan had stopped being my best friend a long time ago. _

"_I didn't sabotage anything. If you must know, I thought she was interesting. I'm just too good of a person to leave my best friend sulking in the town's cemetery."_

"_But you weren't sure I was here."_

"_Irrelevant."_

"_You just had a feeling."_

"_Honestly, I wanted to show off my car. It still is a sweet birthday present, don't you think?"_

_I shook my head and stared into his eyes. "You really are too good of a person."_

_He knew what I was going through. He knew I missed my parents, more than anything. He was there for me, silently, never mentioning them or making me feel uncomfortable - and not just because our families were old friends and we used to bath in the same kiddie pool. This was who Stefan was – warm, considerate, gentle. He was there for people. Even though the people mentioned – said, I – had been refusing to move on and let go of their grief for two years. _

"_Elena." He hugged me closer and I let him. "I need you to stop spending your precious time in this cemetery, listening to Placebo and writing."_

"_Why?" Some suicidal music never hurt anybody. _

"_Because, it's been two years they've been gone Elena." He motioned to the graves in front of us and I shivered in sadness. "Plus, little reminder, it's our senior year."_

"_I'm not going to the stupid prom."_

_He rolled his eyes and captured my brown eyes with his green gaze. "Not the point. Though I'm sure Donovan would kill to take you." I hated how he didn't look the bit annoyed that someone else liked me. "What I mean is… I'm heading to NYU next year."_

"_You are?"_

_The pain in my voice was definitely the ultimate sign showing that he'd stopped being my best friend a long time ago. _

"_Yes. And you're coming with me."_

"_Am I, now?"_

_God, the happiness! It almost felt wrong, being that happy in front of my parents' dead bodies, but I couldn't help it. _

_He nodded silently and gave me one of his most exquisite smiles. "Did you think I'd leave you behind? All you have to do is stop coming here, complete the application forms with me and before you know it – NY baby."_

_Yes, I'd definitely fallen in love with Stefan. And I knew I was too much of a coward to ever admit it or do something about it. _

"_I can see it. I can definitely see it. You'll take being smart, rich and single to the next lever and I'll perfect the art of being lonely and a loser."_

_He gave me a soft punch. "I'll make sure to find you an equally smart, rich and attractive guy to sweep you off your beautiful feet. As for the loneliness – if you would just update your mp3's playlist…"_

_I didn't want another smart, rich guy. I wanted the one who called my feet beautiful. The one I'd never get, probably. _

"_I will never listen to Depeche Mode, Stefan."_

"_Suit yourself." He stood on his feet and extended his arm to me. "Do we have a deal, Gilbert?"_

_I threw one last, lingering look at the graves lied in front of me – a place I knew I'd miss in the future – and grabbed his hand. This was also the day I first sacrificed something in my life, just to be in Stefan's presence. _

"_Deal." I said. "But you have to promise me one thing. We go together, we stick together. Don't go running after some blonde bimbo, the first chance you get."_

"_Oh, Elena." he pulled me into his arms and chuckled. "You know you're my number one girl. Always have, always will."_

* * *

There it was. That was it – _the_ moment. As I sit in my desk, staring absently at the computer screen - recalling one of my most cherished memories for what seems like the hundredth time today - I can't help but sigh. Some things never change. I am twenty four years old, employed, independent, decent looking and a permanent coward when it comes to Stefan. I've been doing quite a good job ignoring and hiding and fighting my feelings for the past seven years, if you ask me. I've been a good friend and we've had times to be envied.

Oh, and, every day, I've loved him some more.

"Brooding over your unrequited yet eternal love again?"

Bonnie's remark causes me to jump on my sit. I hope the look I give her mirrors how annoyed I am that she interrupted my self-loathing.

"Why do I trace hints of irony in your voice?" I mutter lowly. Isobel – our typical New York boss – is giving hell to someone in her office. Bonnie and I, repeatedly neglecting our chores and duties, are way too happy we're not facing Isobel, yet unable to hold off the gossip and accusations of each other's life choices.

"Because, Miss Bitch in there" she points at Isobel's office discreetly "has hired us to work, _not_ fantasize over best friends and waste our brain potential."

Our desks face each other and no one else can tell we're having one of our typical fights, unless they're trying to overhear; which, in this particular business and office, happens all the time. Good thing I don't care what any of these fuckers think anyway, because Bonnie's words earn a snort from my side of the table.

"You know, that sentence, coming from a girl who burns brain cells stalking her two year crush through Facebook, doesn't mean anything to me." I point out and she sticks her tongue out.

"Seven years beat two years, _every time_."

Just when I open my mouth to rant about how I at least talk and spend the majority of my time with Stefan, Anna speeds her way from the bathroom in the desk next to mine – face cool and amused. She's small, witty and incredibly cute – easily one of my favorite people.

"Wow, Isobel just won't let go of her 'fire someone every day' tradition. I got a glance of what's going on in there – poor Harper looks like he's about to faint." While taking a sip from her Starbucks coffee, she lets her eyes wander between the two of us and an even bigger smile plants itself on her face.

"You haven't started working on the new project, have you?" Bonnie and I gawk, faces shocked. Anna chuckles. "You don't even know we've been assigned a new project! Seriously, guys, you need to stop it with all the relationship drama you've got going on. I _really_ don't want to be Monday's person to be fired."

"Right." I mutter, collecting my thoughts. I'd have to find another time to recall all my memories with Stefan and figure out when was it that my life started going downhill. Work hours are not the time to do that. I'd do it when I was home alone – me and my fifty consolation cats.

"So, what's this assignment about?" Bonnie asks and having taken the same decision as me, I see her log out of Facebook and smile a little.

"It's nothing huge. The three of us have to choose a model for the new underwear advertisement. "

"And _that_, girls, is why I love my job." Bonnie exclaims and the three of us smile deviously.

Having majored in journalism and not being able to find a job to practice my promising skills is one of my biggest disappointments. Second on my list actually – the first one being the seven years I've witnessed Stefan hit it on with numerous girls that weren't me. Anyhow, this job – leaving Bitchy Isobel aside – was the second best thing I could find. Do I get to write? No. Do I get to participate in major NY events and feel important? No. What I get to do is spend huge amounts of time with Bonnie and Anna, looking through various male models' profiles and pick the best of them for NY's biggest advertising firms. Now, I know this isn't very mature of us, but, just like Anna likes to think – _when life gives you lemons, suck out all the vitamin C and yell 'EAT THAT, LIFE!'_

And that's what we do. We don't take things very seriously, the three of us. Bonnie's dream was to become a doctor, yet here she is. Anna's was to travel the world and try extreme sports but it didn't happen. And all I've ever wanted was a topic to write for and Stefan by my side. What I got was this job and Stefan's unwavering friendship. It is what it is, I guess. We're stuck here; we might as well enjoy the world's most good-looking models in the process.

"I hope you still love it after nine-hundred pictures. It's for Calvin Klein – _huge_ deal. They want a new face."

Anna places a huge pile of pictures on her desk and smiles apologetically. As if it's her fault we're going to spend another Friday night in one of our apartments, admiring faces we'll never get to see and missing what we really want.

"Girl _please_, I'll never get tired of this." Bonnie smiles. Wow, we're too miserable.

"Did Isobel mention any special criteria for the model?" I ask, my tone all business. I know us and I know our work pace. We get too lazy after the first photos and drag the work on for days. Thank God for the weekend ahead of us. "Hair color, background, measurements…? I hate it when we think we've found the perfect fit and she just frowns and picks someone on her own."

"She just handed me the pile and ordered: _'I want him to be perfect!_'" Anna mimics Isobel's low, irritating voice and rolls her eyes. "So, to answer your question, no special criteria other than perfection."

"Ok, let's divide perfection here into equal bits and start exploring."

I put about three-hundred of the photos on my desk and Bonnie does the same. They're all printed in A4 format – photo of the model up front, general information on the back. When I've seen about twenty of them – spotting nothing extraordinary yet – Isobel's heels click on the floor and come to stand in front of our desks. Her jet black hair is gathered on a tight pony tail and her face is perfectly covered with foundation – no imperfection surfacing. She's all dressed in black and even though she's smiling, her eyes are cold and hard.

"You've started. Good. Any progress yet?"

She can clearly see how little we've advanced and her voice is dripping irony. Her eyes stay on Anna – her least favorite employee – before starting to back away. "I want the best model's photo on my desk by Monday. And he better be _perfect_, or one of you girls ends up unemployed."

She flashes us a terrifying smile and makes her way around the work place, terrorizing anyone who dares to talk.

"I guess we're having a sleepover then. You guys can come over to my place, until we find Mr. Perfect." I sigh and throw a hateful look on the picture I'm holding. The guy's pretty good looking, but his hands are way too big. _Sorry, next_.

* * *

Couple of hours later and as we're getting ready to head home, my phone rings. I stare at the screen carefully – no one calls me. Not unless they want to share amazing news about their amazing lives – news that most of the time shit on my life. One look at the caller's ID lets me know I once again got it right. I grab the phone and stare at the name in horror.

"Guys," I swallow hard and throw terrified glances at Bonnie and Anna, who are both waiting for me to grab my bag so we can leave, "it's Caroline."

Anna sighs and throws herself back on the chair. Bonnie crosses her arms over her chest and gives me one of her looks. "Well, answer the damn phone Elena. Get it over with."

I breathe in deeply, my mind blank and my heartbeats rapidly increasing, and press Answer.

"Hey Caroline." I whisper.

"_Elena!"_ Her excited tone makes me flinch. "_Why are you whispering, is everything ok?"_

The worst part is, she's actually a decent person.

"It's all good. So, what's up?"

"_Pretty much everything." _Her bubbly laugh fills my ears and I need to close my eyes in order to relax. _"We'll share over dinner."_

"Caroline, I can't. I really have to work tonight." I know my excuse won't work, but I try either way. The fact that she said 'we' is already giving me a headache.

"_Nonsense! We don't have to go anywhere nice. I'll call Stefan – you can meet us at the small Chinese restaurant you love so much. Wear sweatpants if you want to. Just come at eight, ok?"_

Shit, shit, shit! "Ok…"

"_Ok! I can't wait. See you tonight sweetie. Love you, bye!"_

She hangs up before I can answer and I'm left holding the phone in limp hands. "She wants – no, _they_ want – to share some news over dinner." I state, to no one in particular.

"This is too fucked up." Anna breaths and comes to grab my elbow so we can move towards the door. The fact that I can't make my body move right now, says a lot.

Bonnie, following behind with the photo-filled box in her arms, has gone back to judging the entire situation. I know she only does it because she cares for my well-being but sometimes all I want is for her to take my hand and be there for me, silently; which is never the case.

"Just, please, keep it short Elena. Some of us don't have the luxury of being Caroline and Stefan and need to actually work. You included."

You know that expression: _same shit, different day? _My life summed up in four words.

* * *

_3 Years Ago_

_Caroline looked up from the huge book in her hands and gave me an evil smirk. Sharing a dorm room with her never got boring or irritating – after all, she had become my best friend. We'd known each other for a month now, but her bubbly self and radiating warmness had won me over immediately. _

"_It strikes me as weird that you and Stefan have never tried being more than just friends."_

"_Oh, and why is that?" I smiled, without removing my eyes from the computer screen. I had to write a twenty-five page essay for my Creative Writing class. _

"_You've been describing him as this amazingly good-looking, noble, gentle, rare human being that cares about you enough to take you all the way to New York with him." She stated that matter of factly, as if it was enough to make a point; which it was, only I couldn't admit it. _

"_We've been best friends forever Caroline. Being in each other's lives comes naturally. It's one of the rare things I'm good at."_

_I heard her laugh and snap her book closed. "I don't believe in boy-girl friendship. I mean, come on, we've both watched 'When Harry met Sally'. Either way, I can't wait to meet him."_

_I didn't get too freaked out by her impatience. After all, she was dating a certain Tyler. It was just Caroline – always ready to meet people and make either best friends or sworn enemies; there was no middle way when it came to her. A soft knock on the door signaled Stefan's arrival after two months of vacation with his family in Europe. They'd asked me to join them, but I'd half-heartedly denied. I needed a few months by myself to set new ground rules and figure out a way to keep from jumping on Stefan every time I saw him._

_I jumped out of my sit, my essay completely forgotten, and run to open the door. The moment I opened it, I faced the biggest challenge of my life that far. He looked so breathtakingly kissable, I had to mentally fight my body to not throw my arms around his neck and assault his lips. Europe had tanned him. He was taller, broader; his green eyes glinting, his smile assuring, his hair perfect, his stand cool and Hollywood-like. He was wearing a simple, white T-shirt and tight jeans. _

_I shouted and threw myself in his embrace. He welcomed me whole-heartedly and breathed me in. My legs snuck around his waist and my hands rested on each side of his perfect face. "Welcome back. I missed your stupid face." _

_He kissed my nose and my cheeks and took a step inside my room. "I missed you too, Gilbert. Europe sucked without you."_

"_I bet it did." I laughed and lowered my body to the ground. I let another moment pass before turning to Caroline, who was staring at us with a huge smile. She already liked him – it wasn't a wonder; everyone liked him. "Stefan, this is Caroline – new roommate and best friend."_

_The smiles on both of their faces were disturbing. I got what was happening the moment I saw them shake hands, but it was already too late. "It's very nice to meet you." Stefan said, completely meaning it._

"_You too." Caroline whispered and blushed. _

_They kept looking at each other and I stood between them awkwardly, trying to convince myself that his interest in her, just like in everyone else, would wear off eventually. It had to! _

"_Well, get dressed Elena. We're going out." I nodded and tried to relax. It was nothing – the spark between them was nothing. Caroline was already in a relationship and Stefan would soon be very busy with his last year of college. If they just didn't see each other for a while, I had nothing to worry about._

"_Caroline, do you want to join us?" I heard him ask and frowned deeply. _

"_I'd love to." She said simply and grabbed her bag. She was already looking perfect in her short jeans and red shirt. _

"_Weren't you supposed to be meeting Tyler tonight?" I mentioned as nonchalantly as I could. _

"_We broke up, actually. He was cheating on me with a Jules-something." _

_I turned around just in time to catch Stefan smile a little predatory smirk and I rolled my eyes. With some luck, this would all be over the moment he got in her panties. I could live with that. I'd been leaving with that for four years now. "Ok, let's go."_

_Caroline moved ahead of us and while I was locking the door, Stefan breathed in my ear, "There's something about her, don't you think?"_

* * *

The clock strikes seven-thirty and pulls me from yet another painful memory. I stare at the floor, where we've spread all the photos that have occupied our entire evening. There are a hundred more left, and we still haven't found what we're looking for. When Isobel asked for perfection, you gave her what she wanted or you got your ass fired. And the men we'd gone through this far were all too good, but none was good enough. I feel like screaming. At least the Chinese restaurant I love so much is on the first floor of my building – no need to rush for the dinner that will probably be one big, fat disappointment.

"You should get ready." Anna says without looking up from the photo she's holding. "We'll take care of what's left."

I sigh and get my miserable ass up. "Use my bed if it gets late and you're tired. I don't think I'll be using it tonight." I drag my feet in my bedroom and throw on a simple, black T-shirt and worn-out jeans. I find the biker-boots Caroline hates – _your feet look huge in them!_ – and put them on. I hear Bonnie breathing behind me so I grab my leather jacket and turn to face her.

"You look like shit." She states. "You're beautiful, as always, but you kind of look like shit."

"I'm just bracing myself for the lovely time I'm about to have." I mutter sarcastically and try to move outside the room. She blocks the entrance with her body.

"_Why_ do you do this to yourself, Elena? Why can't you just give him up already?"

"Because I love him." I roll my eyes at her ignorance.

"No, you're obsessed with him. There's a difference." She takes my hand and squeezes. "This isn't healthy. Anna's right – way too fucked up."

"What am I supposed to do Bonnie?" I shout, revolted. She'll never get it.

"You either tell him the truth or you let him go, Elena!"

"I can't tell him the truth. Not anymore. It would just ruin everything – him, his life." I stubbornly shake my head.

"But this is ruining _you!" _Her eyes beg mine to get what she's saying and part of me does, but it still doesn't change anything. It is what it is.

"I don't care, Bonnie. As long as he's happy, I can take it."

She mutters '_bullshit_' under her breath and rejoins Anna on the floor. I leave the apartment without looking back.

* * *

"Elena!" I see Caroline waving at me and make my way to our table. Both of them are there, next to each other and holding hands. No matter how much time passes, I'll never get used to the image.

She gives my hip a playful punch from where she's sitting and Stefan gets up to take me in his embrace. He kisses my cheek and flashes a genuine smile. If he wasn't a lawyer, I would have probably asked him to be the model of the stupid advertisement. He truly looks good.

"How was your day beautiful?" he asks, as I sit down. I pick some of the noodles they've already ordered for me and force myself to eat.

"It was another pointless day where I accomplished absolutely nothing." They both laugh at my words and I roll my eyes. After two years of being in a committed relationship, they've kind of picked each other's habits. Or better say – Caroline has picked up _our_ habits. But you know, potatoes, tomatoes; who cares? "But I guess you two are about to turn my day from boring to eventful."

I look at them and they both smile. I start tapping my foot on the floor and fight back a scream. They need to spill whatever it is out already. The anticipation is killing me.

Caroline, thankfully, decides to enlighten me. "Elena. Stefan and I are _engaged_!"

_Don't cry. Don't fucking cry. Say something and ask for alcohol and don't you dare cry!_

"_Wow_, you guys! I don't know what to say…"

"Congratulations would be nice." Stefan smiles, his eyes studying my expression. I compose my face to a huge smile, scared that his deep knowledge of my character will betray my true feelings. My muscles ache when I try to curl my lips upwards.

"_Congratulations!_ I'm really happy for the both of you."

I reach out and hug them. I try to keep my heartbeat steady and convince myself that I'll have plenty of time to cry over this when I get home. Right now, I need alcohol.

I sit back on my seat and look disappointed.

"I thought we were celebrating. Where's the booze?" I give Stefan an incredulous look and he flinches.

"I can't Elena, I'm driving."

Too responsible for his own good, this boy. "Oh, come on, you only get engaged once. You're not fooling me with noodles Stefan."

He looks defeated. "Fine; I'll go get us booze."

He gets up and makes his way to the bar and Caroline gives me a grateful smile. "I was begging him for some alcohol earlier. Thank God I've got you to make up his mind for everything!"

_Yeah, and thank God I've got you to marry the man I love. _

* * *

When, four hours later, I finally enter my apartment, everything except from the blood rushing in my veins is quiet. I stumble on some shoes lined up next to the door and curse under my breath. A considerable amount of alcohol has a way of making a person trip on rather flat surfaces. And I've had more than a considerable amount. I flick the living room's light open and look around at the mess. Bonnie and Anna are nowhere to be seen, but I can hear their breathing from inside my room.

The photos are still scattered around the floor, but I spot two lying on the table. Now trying to ignore the reason I'm drunk and desperate, I fill a glass with Vodka and sit on a chair. I take one of the two photos in my hands and stare at the general information. Name: _Mason Lockwood_. Age: _25. _Eye color: _Blue._ Under the long list, Bonnie has scribbled something in red marker. _Nice ass. Cute smile. Eyes to kill for. We might have found our model. _

I giggle lightly and turn the photo around. The guy really is good looking. His body is perfectly muscled and toned – his hands the right size. A photo of his back confirms Bonnie's note about his ass. He stares straight to the camera smiling; his eyes are warm and there's a gap between his front teeth that makes him even more adorable. Indeed, we might have found our model.

I take the other photo in my hands and sigh. From all the men I've seen, leaving Stefan's perfection aside – which I shouldn't be thinking of – this Mason guy really is the best candidate so far. I doubt anyone could beat him; they don't get any better. I read the general info. Name: _Damon Salvatore_. Age: _26_. I skip everything else and read Anna's note at the end. _Sorry Mason, but this is our guy. P.S. this kind of sinful perfection shouldn't exist. Hehe. _

I turn the photo around. The man staring back at me has me finishing my Vodka to help swallow the lump in my throat. I frown – his photo isn't even professional. He's not naked and posing for the camera, like every other model we've seen. The picture is very random; someone has had the inspiration to capture him walking down the street, in a simple black T-shirt and low-cut jeans. He's wearing boots like mine and smirking at his admirer mindlessly. No matter what, his perfection is still very much visible. I don't know if it's the alcohol or hurt I'm feeling, but I find myself admitting he's beautiful – more than Stefan, more than anyone I've ever seen. I don't feel guilty; a fact is a fact.

I look at the photo closely. His blue, piercing eyes put Mason's to shame. His smirk radiates charm and wittiness and confidence. It lets you know he's a man you'd be lucky to meet. Shirt or no shirt – or freaking dress for that matter – you can tell his body is perfect. His skin is pale and contrasts his jet black, longish, messy hair. And I bet his walk screams swagger. I stare at the picture for what seems like ages. The quality of the picture doesn't matter – Isobel will be thrilled with him. She'll jump up and down in pleasure. Hell, she'll probably promote us or something. Because this guy – _Damon Salvatore_ – is the kind of man that can charm any woman with as much as a wink of his eye.

_Any woman. _

The thought comes and goes rapidly. I run after it and keep it in place – playing with the concept for a while. I blame the alcohol for finding the stupid plan – yes, it's already a plan – so amusing. This isn't me. I'm a push over. I've been a push over my entire life. I could never pull through something like that and expect my life to get better. Because, the kind of drama games like that cause, only lead to bullshit.

_Not like every logical decision you've been making hasn't._ Here I am, alone and miserable, pinning over my engaged best friend and hating on his fiancé, who is my equally good friend. _Good friend my ass._ Was she my good friend, she would have known – she would have been able to tell how much I love Stefan. She's only thought of herself. All she ever does is think of herself; she's just like every other gold digger that only wants Stefan for his money and social status. I can so easily prove it.

I stare at the photo in my hands some more and grab my phone. If I weren't completely sure that Stefan and I belong together, I wouldn't do this – alcohol or no alcohol. But I am – I've been sure for years – and now the alcohol only serves as a motivator. I check the clock. It's past midnight, but this is New York. And Damon's face is way too beautiful to be wasted on sleep. I form his number and, allowing no hesitation or second thoughts, press Call.

It rings twice before a very awake, very sexy voice answers. "_Hello?_"

I briefly wonder if the guy has any flows but then I smirk. Probably everything else about him, except his appearance, is flawed. "Damon Salvatore?" I try to sound confident and sure of myself.

"_Yes?"_

"I'm calling from Isobel Fleming's model agency - about the Calvin Klein underwear advert."

"_What about it?"_

I hear music playing from his side of the phone and I find myself irritated. Here are his first flaws – cocky and probably a lazy-ass.

"You did send your picture, didn't you?"

I hear him chuckle and answer lazily. "_Yes, so I did."_

"Well, congrats. You got the job."

"_Great." _I trace humor in his voice and the level of music increases.

"I need to meet you tomorrow and talk about…details. You live in New York, right?"

"_Yes."_ What's up with this guy and the one-word answers? I want to scream at his ear, but that wouldn't be the best way to make my little plan happen.

"I'll text you the place where we can meet, then. Don't be late. Goodnight."

"_Night."_

He hangs up and I growl to the phone. As I'm still very drunk, I gather the strength to do the next stupid thing of my overall ridiculous plan. I take Mason's picture and with the red marker, jot down a few lines under Bonnie's words. _We want a person, not a freaking Brad Pitt. Mason's ass is perfect for the underwear add. I'm all for him._

I fall on the couch and, before letting my brain drift off into unconsciousness, I let my eyes wander at Damon's face. "You, Damon Salvatore will save my stupid, _horrible_, life. You hear me?"

* * *

A/N: _Some clarifications. Stefan and Damon aren't related in this story. Neither are Elena and Isobel. _

_Share your thoughts, by reviewing. If you feel like it. Yours, S. _


	2. Charm and other flaws

**Charm and other flaws**_  
_

_"Charm is a scheme of making strangers like and trust someone immediately, no matter what the charmer has in mind" - Kurt Vonnegut_

* * *

I blame it _all_ on the alcohol.

I will fix this. _I will_. I was drunk and desperate last night. I mean, I did expect some kind of revolution from my part, but I thought Vodka, crying and many Damien Rice songs would do it. I didn't expect my mind to come up with some twisted, evil plan that, even though hung-over, I still remember in detail. Where did it come from, anyway?

_It came from spending your night with a very engaged Stefan, uncountable amounts of chick-flicks over the years, booze and that ridiculously good-looking guy's picture. _

And I was bold enough to even call him – me; the world's worst liar. The push-over. The one who watches the man she loves be with her college friend every freaking day.

Take the technical side of things only – these plans never actually work. Real life isn't Hollywood. This will probably cost me the loss of both Stefan and Caroline if they ever find out. Plus, it's about moral above all. I was raised with morals and honor, not a slave of lust and jealousy. It's not Caroline's fault I'm scared and mental. Because, let's face it, who pins over someone they'll never have for years and years in a row? Who else but me?

_Yes, but if Caroline loves him like you do, she'll never fall for the model guy. _

No. No, no, nope, no freaking way! Damon did sound incredibly arrogant and cocky, but I refuse to use him as a boy-toy. I will introduce myself; confide that my boss will probably choose him for the advertisement and walk away to never see him again. It will be very short and all business.

I refuse to give in to that alcohol induced plan.

With that thought, I leave Bonnie and Anna still asleep on my bed and take off to meet the man who, in no way whatsoever will be my partner in crime.

* * *

Damon Salvatore is twenty minutes late.

Sitting outside one of Stefan's favorite coffee-shops, with the sun deliciously signaling spring's arrival, has me thinking again. The table I've currently occupied is where we first sat, when we arrived six years ago. The same sunrays hit our faces then, even though it was autumn. I'd been genuinely happy. I'd been looking forward to the future. Now, however, the future has the premise of a spectacular piece of shit – unless I do something about it.

Like I said, being stood up has me thinking. One would normally wonder, isn't there a healthy way to do this – a way that doesn't include selling my soul to the devil? If I knew he'd accept me, I'd find the courage to tell him. But he's engaged now, for fuck's sake! And his feelings are all I care about. I don't want to turn his word upside down.

I check the time, in desperate need of distraction – thirty minutes late. I already feel sorry for whoever's going to have to work with him. I take a sip of my second cup of coffee and when I let my eyes wander in the distance, I spot him coming. I suspect I'm not the only one. Letting my literate side take over, I'm just going to say it – looking at him is like staring at the sun, only, in this case, you find you don't mind your eyes hurting; as long as you can keep looking.

First things first, I was right in my assumptions about his walk. He strides down the street like he owns the world. He's with another man on who I honestly can't focus my attention. I feel like a traitor – I've always thought Stefan's smile was the most beautiful sight in the world. But Damon's smirk is just so damn breathtaking. I feel myself move in my sit, as my stomach suddenly tightens. Too much coffee, I'm sure. It has nothing to do with his deep blue shirt and ice blue eyes; absolutely nothing.

He waves at his friend, who runs at the other side of the street, and turns to give the coffee-shop he's supposed to meet me a curious look. I know I'm the one who should talk to him, since he doesn't know who to look for, but I'm suddenly very self-conscious and nervous. I probably look like shit; no make-up, casual clothes. It's part of my 'I don't need other men's approval' routine. I only make an effort to look good for Stefan. But now, I'll be judged. I'll be judged by every female inside a mile radius. You don't just meet a guy like _him,_ looking like I do now. Even if he is a complete asshole – which he better be.

_Think of Stefan. Think of Stefan. _

Right; his opinion doesn't matter. This'll be short and all business – that's the plan. I force myself up and decide to accompany my voice with an awkward hand wave. Dorks will be dorks.

"Damon? Damon Salvatore?"

At the mention of his name, he focuses his eyes on me. When he does, I find myself a bit thrown off balance. His eyes widen for a moment, before turning back to normal. He smiles lazily – _one quick look and I'm already noticing how the guy smiles?_ – and approaches me.

"That would be me." Let me just note that his voice sounds better live. He extends his hand and I take it. Warm, smooth skin but I notice blisters at the tips of his fingers. He probably plays the guitar – how poetic.

"I'm Elena. Please, take a sit."

He places himself on the other side of the round table and smiles at me. I don't know what to name this one – I've never seen that kind of smile before, on anyone. His post is as relaxed as it is collected – clearly indicating that he's not letting more than he wants show. I reposition myself, feeling slightly naked under his curious stare. That untitled little smile hasn't left his face, but as his fingers go through his already ruffled hair, he boldly catches my eyes and tilts his head on the side. I don't even know what's going on. I don't know what to say – I'm never at a loss for words, but his presence intimidates me.

Only when a waitress comes to take his order, do I realize I've spend two minutes gazing like an idiot. He doesn't look bothered – he's one of those who can sit in complete silence, make you feel like a retard, while he has everything about you figured out. I was the stupid one for hoping he'd be stupid and easy to manipulate.

"Scotch please. Dry."

That gives me a thread of courage and self-esteem. "Isn't ten in the morning a tad too early to be drinking?"

"Time is a relative thing." He shrugs and keeps staring shamelessly.

"Not when you're working, it isn't." Ok, I've got to get my shit together. I've got a literature degree. There's nothing this guy can say that'll have me gawking.

"Especially when you're working; but, hey, if you disagree with Einstein…" he lifts his palms in surrender and gives me a look that says: 'be my guest'.

And with that, I'm gawking.

A little something about me; when I feel uncomfortable and cornered, I become sinister and downright mean in the blink of an eye. Hence my snappy answer. "What do _you_ know about Einstein?"

The waitress comes then and, along with his drink, hands him her phone number – which, he kindly accepts with a flashing smile. He takes a little sip before giving me attention again. "Should I be concerned about the judgment in your voice, _Elena_? Because I'm pretty sure I know more about Einstein, than you know about me."

His tone is soft and humorous but the chilling blue of his eyes makes me feel bad. "Most models are superficial." I mutter and find condolence in my coffee.

"Most _humans _are." He raises an eyebrow. "If I tell you I'm not a model, will you stop making assumptions?"

Apparently this guy will say anything to get into a woman's good graces. "I don't stereotype people."

"I beg to differ." All the facial expressions that come with his words are too good to be true. They're more than enough to express what he's feeling. "You think I'm Johnny Bravo."

I bark a little laugh, unable to control myself. "Johnny Bravo?"

His eyebrows knit together. "Yeah, you know; the handsome cartoon guy that only cares for…"

"I know who he is." I interrupt. The fact that he's making me laugh irritates me to the core. "I don't think you're him."

He deviously smiles and finishes his drink. "_Ah_, but I might be. You don't know me, remember?"

He's playing me. He's playing me and I feel guilty and ready to apologize, without knowing what I'm apologizing for.

"Well, ok, are you?" I place my elbows on the table and stare at him. "Are you a narcissistic model that makes money using his face and only cares about women?"

He throws his head back and laughs. "I bet there's a wild side underneath the whole Virgin Mary façade you've got going on."

I grin and stay stubborn. "You didn't answer my question."

"Fine. I don't spend my days staring at my reflection in the mirror, so, no – I'm not a narcissist. I already told you I'm not a model. I sometimes make money using my face" at that, he smirks "because, well, I'd be stupid if I didn't. And I do care about women _a lot,_ but the female species is not the _only_ thing I care about. Satisfied?"

"Very." It's just that now I want to know more. "You do realize I work for a models' agency, right? My boss will be jumping up and down when she sees you."

He smirks and winks. I hear the girl on the table next to ours sigh. "I'm sure you're overreacting." He is very aware I'm not overreacting. He's teasing – again. The irony in his voice is evident.

"You did send your picture though?" I'm starting to get confused. His lack of interest in being Calvin Klein's model is uncharacteristic. Most people would kill for the job.

On a side note, my mind is still, silently but very efficiently, working on that silly little plan.

"Oh, _that_." He rolls his eyes and shrugs. "That was a dare. We were drunk and with nothing better to do."

"Excuse me?"

He just nods silently and gives me a boyish smile. "Rick's an asshole; and probably in love with me."

"Not that you think highly of yourself, or anything." I mutter.

"I think _very_ highly of myself. Anyway, I don't think I could be of much help. I'm not a professional model." He recognizes my irritation and smiles. "Hey, if you want to get into your boss' good graces, I'm more than willing to assist in other ways."

I shake my head and close my eyes. "Couldn't you have told me last night?"

"I could. But I wanted to see what the drunken girl, calling in the middle of the night, looked like."

"_I wasn't drunk_!" A couple of heads turn in my direction, so I cover my eyes with my hand and sink in my chair. "I wasn't drunk." I hiss again.

"You can't fool me." He waves his index finger in a scolding motion. "You were drunk and it was all very interesting."

"Well, _Damon_;" I take the wallet out of my bag, ready to leave. God, if he'd just saved me both the guilt and humiliation. "I'm sorry sober me disappointed you."

I hope sarcasm overshadows the desperation in my voice.

"Who said anything about being disappointed? You're pleasant company."

I ignore my cheeks blushing and rest my bag on my knees. "Look. I came here to offer you a job." I bet telling him I called him with a wicked plan in mind won't sound very proper. "Your little _dare _will probably cost me my job, but that's irrelevant, right?"

I neglect to mention Mason. My plan last night was to trick Damon into meeting me, by telling him he'd won the job, and then hire him for some real life role play. I would send Mason's photo in Isobel's office and no one would ever know. Today though, when I woke up and realized how flawed and sick my plan was, I was more than willing to give him the job.

He shrugs, letting me know that, for him, my job is indeed irrelevant. "Why were you drunk last night?" he simply asks.

"That's none of your business."

"Ok." he sighs and throws a bill on the table. "Well, whatever it is, it's not worth it."

I snort while he puts his jacket on. "You'd say that."

"You're judging again." he smiles and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Maybe I am, but – and please, correct me if I'm wrong – everything about you screams 'easy'. Easy on the eyes, easy to get dates; easy life." All the anger that's been building from last night catapults on Damon. "What is it that you do, exactly? If you're not a model, you're a musician or just living with daddy's money. You don't get to tell me what's worth being sad over and what's not."

I finish with a heavy breath. I expect him to get up and leave, but he just smirks and tilts his head on the side, curiously. "Ah, so it's heartbreak then. You're heart-broken."

He chuckles and gets rid of his jacket again. I see him order another drink, my mind completely blank. I'm not heartbroken – I'm just in love with someone who doesn't love me back. Stefan has never intentionally broken my heart; even if that's what it feels like lately. And how the hell did he know?

"I work, by the way." he mentions, finally looking a bit offended. "I'm not just some artsy guy – worst way to make a living that one, trust me." He studies my stiff look and dares to extend his hand and touch mine. I fold both arms across my chest, refusing to appreciate any tingly feelings. He doesn't seem to mind; in fact, he gives me that untitled smile again. "You want to talk about it?"

"Why would I want to confess my love life to a stranger?"

"Because strangers are unbiased listeners hence, the perfect audience."

I won't be convinced about this. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Nah, I'm good. I have everything I need right here. Alcohol, pretty girl, soft breeze..." he flashes a content smile.

I roll my eyes. I'm pretty sure 'pretty girl' is one of those compliments guys like Damon have memorized in their heads and, with the right smile on their faces, pay to every desperate-for-attention female out there. I know that, because one look at my reflection lets me know today I'm anything but pretty.

"So, what, he cheated on you?"

Without much thought, I shake my head. What is it with this guy and his charm? My, very functional, brain orders me to just get up and leave. Talking about Stefan won't help – it'll only result to another emotional outburst; one of those I so desperately try to control every time I see him. It will also probably make me reconsider asking for the unthinkable – Damon's help in all of this; the guy who I barely know but, nevertheless, have managed to judge and piss off, in the last hour. Hooray for me and my talent to put myself in awkward situations.

Either way, I'm shaking my head and participating in what should be a one-sided conversation. Something about Damon has me lowering my guard down. I think that when he leaves this table he'll forget all about me, so no harm in getting it all out of my system, right?

"Are you going to make me guess?" he asks, when I say nothing to clarify the shake of my head. "Ok…is he afraid of commitment?"

That, he would definitely think. I do look like the kind of girl that wants to have a serious relationship, with a clear and thought-about future. Which is exactly what I want – what I get is another thing completely. Stupid one night stands since I was nineteen, because I can't be in a relationship with anyone that isn't Stefan.

I shake my head again. "Is he _too _committed?" he asks, this time with humor. Yeah, I wish.

"He doesn't know I exist." I state simply.

Damon's frowns and for the first time, he looks puzzled – as if he was denied a fact that up until that moment he knew to be the truth. "You don't even know the guy? I thought only girls in movies fell with guys they'd never spoken with."

His sly smile makes me feel angry. If Bonnie was here, she'd probably bitch slap Damon. Her two year crush, Jamie, is a guy she's barely spoken two words with – which, in my opinion too, is a bit weird. I just hate having to agree with Damon.

"Oh, I know the guy. He's my best friend. He just doesn't know I exist, in _that_ way."

I wait for his reaction. His eyes widen – just like when he first saw me – and then, he bursts laughing. I frown and wait until he's over, to tell him the conversation is officially over and we'll have to go on our separate ways now; forever. Before I can, he interrupts me. "Is he gay?"

"_What? _No! Why would you think that?" The thought of a gay Stefan seems ridiculous. He's been with so many girls I've lost count.

"Because, 'gay' is the only explanation for a guy not to notice _you_ in that way." he states matter-of-factly and shrugs.

Wow. I take another quick look at my reflection on the shop's glass door. Is he talking about _me_? My hair is gathered in a messy ponytail. I have black circles underneath my eyes. I'm wearing last night's clothes and haven't showered. Yet, his tone is so natural and honest, I feel a little dizzy. I've never considered anyone finding me _that _attractive. Yes, many men throw themselves at me, but having Stefan be indifferent has done a lot to drop my self-esteem on the floor.

"Your blush is adorable, Mary." He laughs and I snap out of my bliss state.

"Don't call me Mary. I'm not a virgin." I growl.

"Good to know." he laughs and then sighs. "I still don't see the problem."

"Look." I might as well just say it. "I've known the guy my entire life and I fell for him when I was, like, seventeen. I followed him here and everything, but I've always been too scared to tell him the truth."

"Don't you think drowning in alcohol is a pretty clear sign that it's time to come clean?" he mocks shamelessly.

I scoff at him. "Ok, one, I don't drown in alcohol…_yet._ Two, I can't come clean. I never had the courage, but it's not even an option anymore."

His questioning eyes are enough to urge me to continue. With a sigh, I confess. "He recently got engaged with a very good friend of mine."

Disbelief; that's the one and only emotion in his eyes now. Pure, honest disbelief – as much as disbelief can be honest, but you get the point. He stares at me like I'm crazy – which, I probably am.

"Why, in the _hell_, aren't you trying to get over him?" he's leaning forward now, completely into the conversation. Yes, my inexistent love life is all too interesting.

"I can't help what I feel." This is my excuse to anyone asking me that question – aka Bonnie, Anna and now him. "Don't you think I've tried?"

"Bullshit." Is it the wrong time for me to notice how good he sounds when he swears? Probably, yes. "Don't let your life turn into a Nicholas Sparks novel. Get over him."

"I don't want to get over him!" I exclaim. "I want…_him_."

He chuckles softly and gives me a pitying look. "Drunk-calling strangers in the middle of the night, is just the way to do that." He does an ironic thumb-up and winks. "Your reasoning is very flawed, I'm sorry to inform you."

"Actually, I had a pretty good plan in mind. Or so it seemed, yesterday."

_Don't mention the plan, Elena. Don't you dare mention the stupid plan! _

"Amaze me."

_Keep your mouth shut_. _Kindly deny, say 'it was nice meeting you' and walk away, before you give him the impression of an obsessed stalker in need of therapy. _

"It was stupid really."

_What the hell are you doing? Stop. _

"I was drunk."

…_and out of my mind; I was utterly out of my fucking mind. Say that and leave. You don't want someone like Damon thinking you're a sociopath. _

Wait, why wouldn't I want that?

_Not the point. Just don't tell him anything._

"And your picture was lying there and it got me thinking."

_Oh, hell. Now, you're doomed. _

"Wait, I was part of that mega-plan of yours?" he seems like a kid whose birthday arrived early. His anticipation brings me on track again.

"We're done talking about this. I'm going to go now." I get up but his hand takes hold of my wrist, gripping it softly. I look at where our skin is touching and then at his face. He's practicing what I'd call a 'you-can't-resist-me' smile. One which I don't resist; with a sigh, I sit back down.

"You can't tell me I was involved and then take off. It doesn't work that way. You have my attention, so start talking."

I blur it all out without a stop. "My intoxicated state made me notice how good-looking you were – are – so, I thought I could hire you to charm Caroline and have Stefan to myself."

The moment the words escape my mouth, I picture myself as a two-headed, green monster that needs to be executed.

I expect him to laugh, get up and leave, offer me professional help or simply shake his head in complete horror – anything but the shrug he gives. He simply tilts his head and _shrugs_. Like the monstrosity I just told him is completely normal. "It could work."

He's not serious, is he? "It can't and it won't. It was selfish thinking and I won't go through with it; no way."

The way he shrugs again rages me. "Why are you so calm and eager to help?" I snap.

"It could be my good deed." He angelically voices. "Plus, I could use the money. You said hire, didn't you?" And the evil hint in his voice is back.

"Good deed? _Good deed?_ What's good about destroying a person's life?"

How did I even think I could do this and feel ok with myself later? The more I contemplate on the issue, the sicker I find it.

"Well, when it's done in the name of true love and with good intentions…" God, does he _have_ to joke about everything?

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, if you must know."

"I don't want to know." I bet he's already headed to hell without my help. "Besides, _you_ would be destroying her life. I would be helping you fix yours. There's something about you, Elena, which awakens the hero in me."

"Some hero you are." I mutter sarcastically.

"You take what you can get, honey." After he wiggles an eyebrow, a serious expression takes over. "What is it exactly that you're afraid of?"

I look at my intertwined fingers, knowing I can't handle both his stare and the truth of my words. "I don't want them to break up like this. If it works, the guilt will cripple me. Caroline has helped me through _so_ much – it's not her fault I was never able to deal with my feelings for Stefan."

"Stefan's the guy?" I hear an edge in his voice.

I nod my head and continue. "Also, there's the possibility he won't want me even if he doesn't marry her. In that case, I'll lose both his friendship and him."

"You know what, Elena?" I dare to look up, because I detect some kind of sadness in his voice. "The best thing would be to get over him. I'm saying this as a completely unbiased stranger who only met you today." He captures my eyes with his own. "But, if you insist you love him _that_ much…well, when you love someone you fight for it. All's fair in love and war, right?"

"Do you really think love justifies everything?" I search his eyes for something, but he just shrugs.

"Some loves do, I guess. Look, if that Caroline chick loves him, she won't care if I hit on her."

I snort when he voices my thoughts. "That's what I told myself last night, when I thought my idea was pure genialness."

"It's the truth." I'm still undecided and he spots that easily. "I'll make you a deal, Elena. You tell me where she likes to hang out, I _randomly _hit on her and if I get her phone number – that's your cue to carry on with the plan. First meeting's on the house; I volunteer."

"What if she doesn't give you her number?" I ask – the thought as horrible as heart-warming. I don't know what would be best – realizing that Caroline doesn't love Stefan as much as I do, or knowing that she does. I guess, part of me would be content with Stefan being loved like he deserves, even though not by me.

"You go out on a date with me." Eyebrows wiggle again and butterflies fly my stomach.

"I don't want to go out on a date with you." I say a bit too defensively.

"Now, that's not true." He waits for me to protest, but when I don't he continues confidently. "You need to loosen up a bit, don't you think? How long has it been without sex?"

_Too long._

"That question is very inappropriate, you know."

"You don't have to answer." He waves a hand in front of his face. "I can tell."

"Well, I'm sorry, but being in love with Stefan makes sex with anyone else feel wrong."

"Maybe you haven't found the right 'anyone'." Suddenly, he gets up. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Wait." What the hell am I supposed to do? "I haven't made up my mind yet."

"I think your mind was made up from the moment you called me." he states the ugly truth. "Gee, Elena, live a little. Fight for what's yours! 'The end justifies the means' and all that stuff…"

Here goes that boyish smile again. I get up, too; defeated. "Tell me why you are doing this. I'm nothing but a stranger to you."

He sighs. "Look, to me, it's a win-win situation. I either get a date with you or get paid for something I find myself doing most of the time anyhow."

"Which is?"

"Breaking people up." He smirks.

"And what is the outcome you'd better prefer?" Not that I want him to prefer going out with me, but it would considerably boost up my low spirits.

"I already get paid. So, I guess I wouldn't mind exploring your wild side." He misinterprets my wondering gaze and quickly adds. "That doesn't mean I won't be at my best game with trying to seduce your friend and all that."

This time, I don't let my inner voice scold me. "Fine, we have a deal."

"Great. You text me the place where I can find her alone and the rest is history."

I don't even dare to look into his eyes, the shame of what I just agreed to already catching up with me. "Well, until we see each other again…" he skillfully grabs my hand and, in that busy and too-crowded street of New York, brushes my knuckles with his lips, smiling like a gentleman "It was very nice meeting you."

In a minute, Damon Salvatore is gone; making me believe this was all just a dream.

* * *

My phone rings somewhere near, waking me up from my sleep on the couch. I fell asleep watching 'No Strings Attached', completely alone. After a heated argument with Bonnie and Anna, when I got home, about Stefan, Caroline, Mason, Damon, Jamie, Isobel and our lives, we settled into choosing Mason as a model and got absolutely nowhere with everything else.

I see it is Caroline calling and my heart starts a frantic rhythm. With sweated hands I answer the phone, wondering if she already knows about my plans to destroy her life.

"Hey, Caroline."

"_Elena?"_ she sounds like she's pouting. _"Stefan won't come watch 'The Lucky One' with me tomorrow."_

I hear Stefan sighing playfully on the other sound of the phone and with that, my mind is completely made. I won't feel guilty anymore. I'm fed up with her shoving her happiness in my face. You either leave me alone or deal with the consequences.

"What can I do about that?"

"_Come with me? We can both admire Efron."_

Stefan's bark of jealousy rages me. Her muffled laughs even more. "I can't. I have to work tomorrow."

"_But it's Sunday tomorrow. Stefan, stop it! I mean it – Oh, God! Elena, tell him to stop…"_

Oh for the love of God, do I really deserve all this bullshit? Stefan's voice fills my ears and I suddenly feel like crying that he's not doing whatever it is he's doing to me.

"_Hi beautiful – before you can say anything, remember who's been your friend first."_

"Halt whatever it is you're doing so I can end the conversation with Caroline and go back to sleep, please."

"_Mean woman; for you only." _

Yeah, right – for me only. Caroline retakes the receptor. _"You were saying?"_

"I was saying that Isobel couldn't care less if tomorrow is Sunday or my birthday, for that matter. Sorry Caroline."

"_It's ok. I can watch a movie alone. No biggie. Goodnight sweetie."_

"Night."

Before I put the cell back to its place, I send a text to the number that has now been saved as _Damon S_. oh-so-proudly. _[She's watching 'The Lucky One' tomorrow at the theatres, alone. Are you still in?]_

Not a minute passes before his answer arrives with a beep. _[I'm in. I could do with a better movie choice, but whatever.]_

I smile at his text. _[She's very fond of Nicholas Sparks and Zac Efron. Maybe that could come handy tomorrow.]_

Another twenty seconds passes. _[Don't worry Mary. I've got this.]_

My smile widens at the thought of having Stefan to myself, but as I drag my feet to my bed and fall with a thump, it's Damon's lips brushing my knuckles I fall asleep thinking about.

* * *

A/N: _ Yay, for the many of you who added this story to their alerts and favorites after only reading the prologue. Nay, for the few reviews. _

_I like to believe that first meetings are very important; this is why this one took up an entire chapter. What can I say? I'm a sucker for Damon-Elena moments. Also, I wanted to add that Caroline is in no way the villain in this story. She's actually my second favorite character on the show, now that Rick died. So, we'll see her grow. _

_That's pretty much it. I hope you enjoy. Review if you feel like it. I appreciate you for being here. Yours, S. _


	3. Whirlwind of emotions

**Whirlwind of emotions**

_"I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between." - Sylvia Plath_**  
**

* * *

I despise Sundays.

Sundays are for people with enjoyable lives. You know the ones; they have someone to wake up next to, for starters. They have breakfast in bed and turn their phones off and spend the entire day cuddling, sun bathing and practically wasting time.

My Sundays consist of one strict rule: survive the day. Stefan and Caroline rarely buy my 'I have to work' excuse and act like it's their duty to entertain their single, best friend. Whether it's a walk in the park, lunch in a fancy restaurant, movie marathon or whatsoever, I'm forced to endure an entire day filled with unavoidable cuddling and other couples' stuff. Poor Bonnie and Anna always try to save me, but there's little anyone can do when it comes to Caroline Forbes's emotional blackmailing.

It doesn't help that every time I see them kiss, I die a little inside.

I wake up this Sunday with a clenched stomach and uneasy mind. It is eight o'clock, but I can't fall back asleep – not when the prospect of what's planned to happen ominously clouds my mind. My thoughts drift to Stefan, instinctively. _What is he doing right now? _He's already awake, for that I'm sure of; he's been an early bird since he was fifteen. While in college, he used to call me first thing in the morning, serving as an alarm clock. Then he would shower, eat breakfast and go for a run. After _all_ that, he'd come drag me out of bed – I'm a sucker for sleep. I can't be sure of his morning routine anymore though. Maybe Caroline's changed him. It has been a year since they moved in together and, even though we're still friends forever and all that, I haven't had one of my 'Stefan wake up calls' in what feels like ages. So, yeah, for all I know, he now spends his mornings having sex with his soon-to-be wife.

Ugh. I turn at my side, the idea instantly making me nauseous. But then, I feel guilty; guilty for not being happy for them, guilty for going through with that sick idea my mind came up with, guilty for spending the best years of my life in love with the wrong person. It all becomes too much, too soon, so I roll out of bed and head for the shower, forcing a different course of thoughts to enter my mind. _What about Damon? _I put some shampoo on my hair and start a little guessing game about him and the mystery that poured out of his pores yesterday.

I still support my 'he's had an easy life' theory. There is no other way for someone to be as carefree as he appeared to be. I can imagine him living in one of those fancy, sterile apartments on the Upper East Side, waking up with different women every morning, using his parents' credit cards like toys. Yesterday, he was careful not to reveal what his job was exactly. Well, I guess he's either working for his father, or with his father, or in a position his father placed him. Oh, and let's not forget the last but definitely not least option – he goes through life in void, sucking the life out of New York City, while he's still got a face to die for. I don't know what is it about him that pisses me off and makes me stereotype him the way I do. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I understand it's more than his appearance that intimidates me; he is deep and that is, in a way, scary. For, who wants to deal with someone unpredictable and with hidden agendas?

I enter the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. It is now a quarter to nine. There's no one I can call this early. Bonnie and I are still one shaky ground after our all-over-the-place argument yesterday and Anna likes to spend her one day off in solitude. Caroline isn't an option, of course. With my terrible way of lying, she'll know I'm trying to screw her over without me realizing it.

_Trying to screw her over…! _Wow, if it isn't Elena Gilbert, woman of morals and manners, purposefully trying to ruin her best friend's life for her own selfish reasons. I sink on my couch and start the very vital process of 'inhale-exhale-repeat' in order not to lose my mind.

There is one thing worse than having a guilty consciousness – it is when selfishness and greed take over and you decide to live with it, in order to take what you desire.

My phone rings around eleven. Still hopelessly resting on the couch, I extend my arm to the phone and fall on the floor on the process. When I see Stefan's name on the screen, I assume Caroline's already gone to the theatres and my hearts trembles in both fear and anticipation; oh, and guilt – can't forget the gut wrenching guilt. I stay on the floor and answer it carefully, like I'm holding an atomic bomb.

"Stefan."

That's the only thing I can utter without my voice breaking dangerously.

"_I just woke you up, didn't I?" _ He asks, somewhat amused and oblivious to my anxiety. His voice is fresh and pleasant; it seems his day has started off far more interestingly than mine.

"No, I was just sulking around. What can I do for you today mister?" I get on my feet and try to compose my voice. I take a look of myself in the mirror and frown – this is so _not_ how I'm supposed to look like.

"_Caroline just abandoned me for that Efron guy." _He chuckles on the phone and I roll my eyes. Let's hope she doesn't abandon him for that Salvatore way-too-real guy. _"So, I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk." _

Before I can eagerly nod and jump around in agreement, I remember I told them I had to work today and roll my eyes in irritation. "I wish I could but, like I said yesterday, I have to work." I say in a grave voice.

"_Oh. I thought you only said that so you didn't have to watch that cheesy movie."_

Damn, he knows me too well. I smile a little, unable to help it. "I might have done that. Don't tell Caroline though."

He chuckles and sighs. _"I don't know…I can't build a relationship based on lies."_

I play along with his teasing tone, while undressing. "In that case, I should probably let her know you haven't watched _The Notebook._"

He gasps and I bet he's shaking his head in betrayal. _"That was a dirty move Gilbert. How about you come for a walk with me to Central Park and we call it even." _

I'm already dressed and applying some make up in my tiny bathroom. "I can work with that. Meet you in…" I glance at my watch before talking "…thirty minutes?"

"_Great. See you beautiful."_

"See you."

I run out of the door, my loose jeans almost falling and my bag dragging my holey T-shirt over my right shoulder. I gather my hair in a messy ponytail and rush for a taxi, all the while thinking that somewhere, right at this moment, Damon is probably seducing Caroline Forbes.

* * *

Stefan's waiting for me with a wide, knowing smile on his face. He eyes my disheveled appearance and chuckles in my ear, while I give him a swift kiss on the cheek. I've mastered the art of controlling my heartbeat and breaths while kissing him, through the years, perfectly. I manage a tight smile and turn off the usual anguish the inability to have him gives me.

"How you wear rags and still manage to look beautiful is beyond me." He kindly compliments, as we enter the park.

I roll my eyes at his common over-the-top manners. I'm fully aware I look everything but beautiful and I perceive his compliment as naïve mockery. But that's your typical Stefan – ready to lie in your face, unable to hurt your feelings with the truth. "I don't wear _rags_; I'm casual. Know the difference."

He shrugs and I notice how smart he looks in _Nike_, cargo, grey sweatpants and his V-necked, white T-shirt. "BTW," I add at his appearance "you know I hate physical exercise."

Stefan chuckles and shoves me away playfully. "Relax, we're not running. I just wanted to spend _one_ day out of that stupid lawyer's suit."

As we walk deeper into the park, I slow my pace and stare at him mockingly. "You little hypocrite; you love your job."

He nods and frowns thoughtfully. "I do – it's my job that doesn't love me."

"You're just being dramatic." I say nonchalantly, trying to sooth the frown of his brows nevertheless. Stefan's been in the business for a year now and, with what he's told me, he hasn't lost a case. His father gave him a nudge in the right direction when he first graduated, handing him some valuable cases but, other than that, it was all Stefan.

"No, really, I'm not." He sighs, defeated. "You want a hot-dog?"

Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, I nod mindlessly and follow him at the nearest hot-dog stand. He makes the order, while I take the opportunity to peek at my phone. I wonder what's going on with Damon and my belly twists violently. Butterflies…? More like dinosaurs in my stomach.

"Here you go." Stefan hands me my hot-dog and, resting his hand at the small of my back, takes us both to sit on a bench. I snuggle close, knowing and secretly thanking his ignorance towards my feelings, and appreciate the moment.

"So, what's bothering you? Is Zach giving you all the hard cases?" I quickly ask, so he doesn't get the chance to interrogate me about my life.

"I don't mind that." He replies and his eyes absently wander at the passengers. "I just hate that I can't tell right from wrong anymore."

"Maybe you should start seeing in colors instead of black and white." I comment quietly. There are very few things that irritate me when it comes to Stefan, whether it's because I love him or because I've grown accustomed to his ways, but his inability to see the motives behind people's actions is one of those few things that make me mad. To me, the reasons that drive someone act in a particular way are as much important as the result – and I'm not only thinking that because it hits dangerously close to home, in my case.

"You're way too literal for me, Gilbert. Care to explain what your Shakespearian one-liner means?"

I smile sheepishly and swallow some of my food. _Is there anyone out there who gets my metaphors? _

"If you're going to keep ignoring the motives behind someone's actions, you might as well plead guilty for each one of your clients and be done with it."

At first, he laughs at my exasperated expression. "That's not how it works, but anyway." I roll my eyes and he focuses on my point. "So, you're saying there are bad murderers and good murderers?"

His mocking voice makes me stamp my foot on the ground. "Ha-ha. I'm saying, you can't put people who kill for self-defense in the same category with those who kill for fun."

"I know that. I had this case, though, where a man killed two people." His eyes bore into mine, forcing me to listen carefully. "He'd been unemployed for months and his kids were starving. His barely-there-life savings had already been spent. One day, fueled by his kids' cries, he decided to rob a grocery just down the street. Things didn't go well, obviously – he was far too stressed and freaked out and couldn't use that stupid gun he was carrying to scare people off. It resulted with the death of two people."

He sighs and rests one hand on my knee. I'm completely awe-struck, both with the actual story and the resemblance I've managed to find with my own. I can imagine myself being that poor man and my feelings for Stefan being his starved children. The man used a gun to rob someone, the same way I'm using Damon to take something that is clearly not mine. Will Caroline and Stefan be my victims?

Stefan drags me out of my agonizing thoughts. "Tell me now, should I care about his _motives_?" He spats the last words in almost disgust.

My words come out in short breaths, without realizing it. "I don't think…I think; I mean, cut him some slack." It feels like I'm defending myself. "You've never been in the man's shoes. You don't know what he's been through. He had mouths to feed – children depending on him."

Stefan shakes his head, making it clear we'll never be in the same page over this. "Two innocent people are still very dead."

At this moment, my phone starts ringing. I glance at my clock again. It is now two-thirty p.m. and Damon's name appears on the screen. I feel relief wash over my body – at least I won't have to keep arguing with Stefan about cases that symbolize my personal drama.

"Yes?" I smile at Stefan, who is eyeing my curiously. He, too, is aware that no one other than him calls me.

"_What's up with you?" _Damon's voice is chipper. I wonder what the outcome that's making him sound this way is.

"Nothing's up with me. Why should something be up with me?" My frantic voice proves my words to be pure bullshit.

"_Your voice has lost its usual pleasantness. Anyway…"_

I swallow and slightly turn my back at Stefan. "How did it go?"

He snorts and I'm more than a hundred percent sure he's smirking. _"My success rate with women remains unharmed. Look, I don't want to have this conversation over the phone. Can you text me your address or something?"_

Damon, in my apartment…? Damon inside that tiny, dirty, cave-like space that smells…? _Oh no_, I don't think so. "I'm not at home right now."

"_Great. Dinner then; I'll bring pizza and you can tell me how you've thought this little plan of yours is going to work."_

I sigh, defeated. His tone implies there's no room for objections – that is clear, despite the fact I don't know him that well. "Fine, I'll…text you it. I have to go now."

"_Bye bye, Mary."_

The whole Virgin Mary thing is starting to get on my nerves. Stefan, who is texting now too, gives me a smile and half a hug. My frustration and curiosity about everything Damon didn't feel like sharing over the phone prevents me from enjoying the contact.

"Caroline just texted – she's home. You want to join us for lunch?"

There is one thing worse than being in love with your engaged best friend – being said best friend's pity case. "Nah, I've got some stuff I need to do."

"Is any of that _stuff _related with your mysterious caller?" he questions and gets on his feet, dragging me behind playfully.

I smack his shoulder and follow him outside of Central Park. Despite my constant blubber about being the 'pity case' and hating it, I never miss an opportunity to spend the day with them – well, with _him_. Today though, as I eagerly motion for a cab, I can't afford to waste any time with the _lovely couple_. Not when I only have six hours to put that shithole I live in, in some order, before Damon comes over.

* * *

I hear one simple knock and I instantly know it's him. Unintentionally, I compare Stefan's repetitive, weak knocks with his sharp, attention-seeking one. Damon manages to make his presence known using every gesture – whether it's a little smirk, soft kiss on the hand, witty comment or this knock. Yeah, like his face isn't enough to do the trick.

_And when exactly did I become a Damon expert? Whoa, the term 'Damon expert' shouldn't even exist. _

I glance around my apartment and sigh; an eternity wouldn't have been enough for my living room to transform to an actual _living_ room. It'll have to do – it's not like this is a date or anything. I've practically hired the guy. I confidently walk to the door and swing it open. The sight of Damon casually leaning against my doorframe is as normal as weird.

He's wearing a black, leather jacket and a navy-blue button down underneath it. His black hair is way too disheveled, taking his bad boy appearance to a whole new level. He's already smirking when I open the door – of course – and, while his eyes roam over my body, the smirk turns into a full, loop-sided grin.

"You look nice, Elena." He says sincerely and I glance at my reflection on the full-length mirror positioned at my left. I've showered and put on some fresh clothes. My hair is still dump and I've applied some mascara and eyeliner to compensate that. No biggie. "You didn't have to get worked up over my visit, though."

He deliberately ruins his own compliment, causing me to roll my eyes while extending one hand to invite him in. He strides inside and I follow, noticing his empty hands. "I thought you were bringing pizza."

He gives me a little smile before removing his jacket and sitting on my couch. "I would, but I won't be staying long. Something…came up."

I shrug at his words, my eyes fixated at the sight of him sitting effortlessly and looking around my apartment curiously. No male, other than Stefan, has been here since I bought this place, a year and a half ago – the exact amount of time I haven't been with anyone, in _any_ way. Trying not to read too much into my sudden thoughts and feelings of longing, I find the courage to sit next to him on the couch and bring my knees to my chest.

"This place is _small_." He comments and keeps staring around. I let him do that while I, completely ignoring common sense, stare at him. "And, apparently, you read way too much."

Yes, my books are piled on the floor; hundreds of them, as they are the only touchable memory I have of my parents, who were both addicted to literature. "Books are my best friends." I say silently, quoting what my father told me every time he bought another book.

"I feel the same way about alcohol." He mocks and I snap out of it, angry I let myself recall memories while with someone as unfeeling as Damon.

"So." I clasp my palms to my knees and ask the million dollar question. "How did it go?"

He flashes a killer smile and takes his cell phone out of his back pocket. He touches the I-phone and I wait patiently for whatever he's doing. He hands me the phone then and I gingerly look at the screen, somewhat scared of what I'll see. There it is, in bold – Caroline's name has been saved and her number is more than correct. I gasp and stare at him, shocked and partly disappointed. I hadn't realized I wanted to go on a date with him until now.

"Was it, like, a piece of cake?" I ask, handing him his phone back. I feel sad for Stefan – I feel sad he's about to marry someone disloyal.

"Actually, no, it wasn't." He shakes his head and gets up, pacing around the room and going through my books and vinyl records. "First things first, I had a hard time recognizing her. I swear, every girl in there was blonde and over-excited. She was _very_ into the movie – it took…ten minutes for her to notice me." he rolls his eyes, annoyed and I grimace. "The fact that I didn't know anything about her was another obstacle, obviously. We need to talk about that."

"About what?"

"Well, genius, how am I supposed to make her believe I'm her perfect match when her favorite movie is, like, my worst nightmare?"

I stare at him, dumbstruck. "Right…well, I don't know."

He laughs and sits down again, this time closer. "I do know. You're her friend, right?" I nod. "You'll tell me everything there is to know about her; Caroline 101. She didn't mention she was engaged today, which is a good thing. On the other hand, she gave me her number thinking I'd never call her."

"Which means?"

"Which means – she didn't take our meeting seriously…_which means_, I'm barely a threat to her fiancé and your lover boy."

I shake my head, his words sounding Japanese. "I'm not getting anything you're saying."

He sighs and innocently starts playing with the fingers of my right hand. I try not to get distracted.

"Let me break it down for you. Caroline clearly loves that Stefan guy. _However_, the innocent act of giving her phone number to the charming, straight guy who happened to be watching that crappy movie, lets us know that nothing's set in stone. Girls like Caroline…they believe in epic love stories, you know?"

I nod, because I believe in them too. One of the main reasons Caroline and I became friends so easily.

"Apparently, a hidden part of her believes her boyfriend isn't giving her that epic love story. My point is, Caroline will give in to the idea of someone gorgeous sharing her interests and hobbies, because, unintentionally, she's believed in every romantic chick-flick she's ever seen."

I nod again, starting to make sense of what he's saying.

"All I need to do is…_know_ her. This is the part where you come in and we spend ridiculous amounts of time together; you know, talking about your friend and stuff."

I stay silent for a long time and he keeps playing with my fingers absently. It feels kind of good, so I don't shake his hand away. After about five minutes, he stares into my eyes, completely serious. "Do you still want to do it?"

"Yes." I whisper.

He smiles warmly. "I like determined women. They go through with their plans, despite the chance of those plans leading to destruction."

"Do you think this will lead to destruction?" I ask in a husky voice and look at our fingers. How can he be so at ease, touching me, while I'm hyperventilating?

"Someone will definitely get hurt. I hope that someone isn't you."

"Why?"

"I don't know." He looks into my eyes and searches into my soul and I know that whatever he's about to say will be sincere. "You are – what's the right word? Poignant…yes, you are poignant, Elena. Your beauty is saddening. I could see that from the moment I met you, yesterday. I think that happy you would look that much better."

I nod carefully and finally remove my hand. His words sent shivers down my spine – I don't want to overdo it with the stupid emotions. He senses my discomfort and smirks a little. "Plus, it's only normal for me to side with my employer, right?"

"Right. About that; we should talk about your payment."

He moves one hand in a carefree motion and gets up, putting his jacket on. "We can talk money after I get the job done and _if_ you're still in love with that Stefan guy in the future."

I frown and follow him at the front door. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs and gives me a devious look. "I'll see you soon."

He leaves without looking back and I'm left at the door, gawking and feeling emotionally drained. I guess today marks the second day I spilled my guts to Damon and found out absolutely nothing about him in return.

Another, more pressing, issue - why _the fuck_ did I allow him to touch me like that? The answer is written in my mind with bright, neon colors: _you, Elena Gilbert, have it in you to be interested for someone other than Stefan. _

I am completely and irrevocably intrigued by Damon Salvatore.

* * *

**A/N: **_Damon will remain a mystery for a while, because, well, it's more fun that way; and because mystery is part of his charm. _

_Nothing to add here. Reviews are highly appreciated, of course. (If only I got as many as favorite and story alerts *sigh*) Thanks for reading guys! Yours, S._


	4. Maid of dishonor

**Maid of dishonor**_  
_

_"I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one...Humans are caught - in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too - in a net of good and evil. There is no other story." - John Steinbeck _

* * *

_3 ½ Years Ago_

"_Where's Vicky?" Stefan asked, entering my dorm room. _

_The place was a complete mess – my way of enjoying the short-lived privacy before I was faced with a new roommate; hopefully one that wasn't a crack-head. I watched Stefan lie on my bed over the pile of text books I was studying and sighed, my patience coming to an end. I always had a hard time studying for finals at the end of each semester. _

"_She was sent to rehab." I stated unceremoniously and managed to turn my attention to T. ._

"_I can't say I'm surprised." Stefan shrugged and picked up 'Naked Lunch' from my nightstand. I watched intently as he took in the first paragraph and, almost immediately, his brows furrowed. He – wisely – decided to put the book aside, muttering something that sounded like, "What the fuck did I just read?"_

_I smirked and shook my head, as he moved on to a different topic. "When is your new roommate arriving?"_

_I snapped my notes away in frustration and pinched the bridge between my eyes, hoping for some physical release. "Hopefully, next year; I mean, summer's nearly here. Nobody's preoccupied in making dorm room arrangements."_

_He smiled content. "Summer, which we'll be spending exploring Europe." _

_I shook my head and went to sit on the bed. He laid still and kept smiling, challenging me to refuse his words – which I did. "No…summer which _you_'ll spend exploring Europe, in the company of your parents."_

_He let a childish sound come out. "We want you to come."_

"_I'm going to spend my summer in Mystic Falls. I already told Jenna, so stop whining. Not the manliest sound." _

_He brooded and grasped my wrists, yanking me into his embrace. I settled there, fully aware this was one of the rare time periods he was single – periods that mostly occurred when he was studying for finals. "Europe girls are all about the sex, I've heard." I giggled absently and he tightened his hold. _

"_So you've heard, huh?" he laughed, too. "I still haven't found what I'm looking for."_

_With girls worshiping the ground he walked on, I wondered how that was possible. "What's that?"_

_He shrugged and I rested on my elbows. "I don't know…I want a keeper; someone pretty and lively and smart."_

"_As a resident of a university campus, a myriad of girls fit that description." I whispered, somewhat bitterly. He, of course, didn't notice. _

"_They don't read 'Naked Lunch', though." Before I could contemplate on his heart-warming words, he moved on. "I have an idea. If we reach our thirties and find ourselves alone and miserable, we marry each other."_

_I tried to laugh mockingly, barely showing how appealing that sounded. It was a joke, of course, but maybe it wasn't; maybe, if the scenario became a reality, he'd consider me as more than the best friend. Almost immediately, though, I scolded myself. In which parallel universe would Stefan end up alone and miserable in his thirties? "You'll find a perfectly nice girl for yourself."_

"_I don't know. They seem to be getting dumber by the year." He sat on his elbows next to me, much like when we were kids. "So what do you think? Deal?"_

_I rolled my eyes and gave him the satisfaction of shaking his extended hand. After all, when did I ever deny him anything? "Deal; now if you'd excuse me, I have finals to study for."_

* * *

I wake up with a gasp. My heartbeat races uncontrollably and my hair is a sweaty mass on my face. _No wonder this particular memory has turned into a regular nightmare_, I think as I fill myself a glass of water. Not long after our 'deal', Stefan returned from Europe and had the chance of meeting the pretty, lively and smart Caroline Forbes. And the rest has been history.

We did have a deal, though – once. Silly me, always with the hope my life will turn to a romantic comedy. A small whimper escapes my throat, as I stand in the middle of the kitchen, thinking about the extremeness of my latest actions. Before I can turn to a sobbing mess at two in the morning, I stop myself short and let the rare, but there nevertheless, strong-headed side of me take over.

I can't be blamed for going after what I want – I won't.

* * *

"_Why_ are you late?" Bonnie demands the moment I sit in my desk.

I shrug and get rid of my jacket. "Traffic." I smile at her warmly and put an end to our ridiculous argument from Saturday. We'll probably find something else to bicker about in the next hours. "What did I miss?"

"Your sense of style." Anna jokes from her place, earning a giggle from Bonnie. I throw a venomous look at them and turn my computer on. My jeans and T-shirt are a perfectly acceptable combination, thank you very much. Who says I have to look like those chicks from _'The Devil Wears Prada'_, just because I work in a models' agency. Ok – _the_ models' agency.

"What got you two in such a good mood?" I ask, while checking my e-mail. I applied for an internship in _Times_, some weeks ago but, yeah…good luck with that. Seeing no new mail, I sit back and, once again, remind myself that I'm going to keep working here for eternity.

"Isobel." Bonnie vaguely mutters, making my eyebrows go vertical. I've never heard anyone mention Isobel's name for good. The woman is a source of evil – she's Medusa, minus the snakes. "And, of course, not getting fired – she liked Mason."

Before I get a chance to exclaim with relief, Isobel and Andie – her best friend, second in charge here and some businessman's daughter – walk out of Isobel's office, laughing lightly. Now them; _they_ look like in a movie. With heels like those they're wearing, I wouldn't be able to make it across my bedroom.

"That gap between his teeth is ridiculous." Andie scolds and the three of us sit quiet and try to look very busy. They're talking about Mason and she's tsking the feature I found cutest about him.

"I know," Isobel rolls her eyes, "I thought I'd have to fire someone but, weirdly enough, the big boss liked him. No scratch that, _loved_ him – so much for hiring new faces, if you ask me."

Their gossip fades as they leave the office, probably heading to exciting meetings or, I don't know, fashion shows, or something. I relax in my sit, just like every other employee around me – Medusa has left the building. Bonnie removes her high heels and Anna puts her legs on the desk.

"That was close." She sighs. "Thank God, _someone_ liked him. I knew it was a risk – we should have sent that other guy, Damon. Isobel would have drooled all over the place."

I let them giggle and gossip. The moment Anna mentioned Damon's name, my insides stirred with anticipation and, could it be? – Excitement. Taking advantage of the fact Isobel didn't leave us any important chores and that the entire office is in a hyper state of joy, I turn to 21st century's instant encyclopedia – Google. Hesitant at first and glancing over at my two best friends repeatedly, I only type the letter 'D'. I don't stop to think about what I'm doing, until I've typed 'A' and 'M' and the search suggestion 'damn you autocorrect' mocks me. I delete it quickly and inhale. Snooping about Damon? Bad, _bad_ move; the whole mystery thing has gotten the best of me. I attribute the attraction to one simple fact – I'm a sucker for tall, dark and dangerous. So much, I once made Stefan dress as James Dean for Halloween, only to decide he doesn't do bad boy good; which is one of those barely there turn off-s.

Ok, regroup. One little search won't harm anybody – I'll probably just come across his Twitter account. Ignoring how I probably look like a seventeen year old, I type his entire name and press Search, before I can duck out again. I change windows swiftly, as Anna moves behind my chair to go get us coffees, and give a tight smile to no one in particular – smooth, _real smooth_. After she's gone – and seeing Bonnie engaged in her research – I focus on the results and frown.

No Twitter account, obviously. Among all the information the screen displays about various Damon-s, I try to tell which ones concern my Damon. Well, not _my_ – just a form of expression. I only come up with one certain result; one I'd never associate with the Damon I've talked to these past few days. A somehow younger Damon's picture in…Yale's Law Journal.

"Shut up." I mutter my jaw dropping to my chest. "_Yale?"_

"What's in Yale?" Bonnie curiously asks, bringing me back to planet Earth. I clean my Search History, just in case, and stare at her.

"Not what, but who." I enigmatically answer back, not making sense.

"_Fine_…who's in Yale?" She smiles, probably amused with my dumbstruck expression.

"I have no idea."

She shakes her head, clearly irritated and doesn't nag me further. I don't give it much thought, though – I told her the truth. I have no idea who Damon Salvatore is. For the two days I've known him, I've went from thinking he's a brainless model to assuming he's a rich _something_, to guessing he's into arts, to referring to him as the male Kim Kardashian in my head, only for him to appear in Yale's Law Journal. Law school – it's huge. It's for smart, accomplished people. Damon doesn't seem _that_ accomplished to me – he has everything but Stefan's _'I'm doing something with my life' _determinacy. Yet, his picture is there, in Yale's archives – a university Stefan would kill for, despite claiming differently.

Now even more confused than before, I check my phone for any messages. Not surprisingly, I've got one from Caroline. _[I'll wait 4 U, Bonnie & Anna in that Greek restaurant you guys go for lunch break. Don't B late. We have a wedding 2 organize!]_

I grimace, her words giving me the bitterest taste, and silently hand my phone to Bonnie. She reads the text and eyes me warily. "Well, we're in for an interesting ride."

* * *

"I'm right _here! _Guys, come quickly!"

Caroline's chipper voice and utterly unnecessary body language makes most clients, in the restaurant, turn their hands in amusement. The three of us rush at the table and Bonnie even puts a slender finger on her lips, shushing her. Even though I was the one to introduce Caroline to Bonnie, the two, maybe unwillingly, bonded and reached a stage of mutual sincerity and understanding. Bonnie claims to love me more, but the reason she sometimes makes my relationship with Stefan sound like the worst thing in the world, I've come to understand, is her also growing friendship with Caroline.

"We're in public, Caroline." Anna whispers mockingly. "One of these days we'll have to gag you."

I laugh at her only half-joking tone. Anna's eyes glister in amusement, as Bonnie removes her finger from Caroline's lips so she can exhale loudly. "Girls; Girls, girls, _girls_…there is only one thing better than a girl's wedding day – that is the time spent planning the wedding!" Her scolding tone is as typical and irritating as fun and heart-warming. Seeing how neither of us have 'wedding' planned in the near future, we stay silent and wait to see where she's heading. "You can gag me all you want; I'm still going to walk on sunshine. You know why? Because I have a wedding to plan – _my_ wedding to plan, and the three of you will assist."

"I suppose we don't have a say in this." Bonnie mutters darkly.

"Nope, you have absolutely no say."

"And I bet this will count as emergency period." Anna panics and I panic right along with her. 'Emergency period' is a term designed by Caroline, to make people do everything she wants, for a certain amount of time. They mostly occur on her birthday, or when she has special parties to organize. And I know for sure, the time she'll need to plan her perfect wedding _will_ count as emergency period.

"You bet your ass it will." she laughs. "You are at my disposal, girls. Dress fittings, cake tasting, flower picking, invitations, finding the right place – _everything_."

"Isn't Stefan supposed to have a say in all this?" I question, earning glances from Bonnie and Anna, who advised me to keep Stefan out of wedding conversations as much as I can, for my own sake. But, I'm a masochist.

Caroline waves a hand and rolls her eyes. "He's given me full reign. I joked about having a Barbie themed wedding and he just shrugged. Though, I don't think he'd really like that." She goes over it for a while, before laughing again. "Point is, he wants me to have fun planning everything with _my_ girlfriends."

I curtly nod and study her, as she engages into conversation with Bonnie and Anna digs in her food. The sheer hope that she'd spill about meeting Damon vanished the moment I took in her nirvana-bliss state. Despite the fact they've only seen each other once and I wasn't exactly expecting her to confess exchanging numbers with a hot stranger, I do search her face for any signs indicating guilt or discomfort. I sit back on my sit and hear her talk about honeymoon destinations, weddings on yachts, lilies and tulips and not once does she look down in embarrassment or whisper words in tremor. She laughs and jokes brightly – mentioning Stefan's inability to refuse her anything once or twice – and allows Bonnie to talk her out of wearing a short wedding dress. I tap my leg on the floor restlessly, hoping it'll ease some of the nerves, and start doubting Damon's version of the story, even though he had her cell number saved in his phone.

"How was the movie?" I randomly ask, interrupting whatever Anna is saying.

"What movie?" Caroline's brows furrow a bit too deep and a bit too defensively.

I eat some salad before responding. "The one you saw yesterday, with Efron?" The fork dangles in my fingers, as I casually shake my right palm while chewing.

"Oh, that." She smiles a little. "It was _good_. Nothing you and Stefan would have liked though." She almost whines.

"No dudes like those kind of movies, Caroline; get over it." Anna shrugs and I would have laughed – because what she really meant was _no human being should like those kinds of movies_ – if I wasn't concentrated on Caroline.

"You'd be surprised." She says too quickly and lowly and then, with her bright smile plastered on her face, turns to me. "I want you to be my maid of honor."

_And it keeps getting better, ladies and gentleman_.

"_Oh._" Is all I can desperately say, before casting needy glances toward Bonnie and Anna who have both lowered their heads in what I reckon, is pity. "Re-really…? How-how come?" Ah, I'm stuttering now.

"Don't _how come,_ me! You're my best friend, – no offense Bonnie, Anna – who else am I supposed to ask?" She laughs incredulously.

_Um, I don't know – someone who isn't in love with you fiancé maybe? _

"I'm kinda…_worried _that I won't live up to my maid's of honor duties. Like, I'll lose your wedding rings or something." I lie shakily.

"The best man's in charge of the rings, silly." Anna clarifies and then quickly looks away, as Bonnie catches her eye and scolds her to keep quiet.

Caroline nods hysterically, thinking she'll be left without a maid of honor. "Right; all _you_ will have to do is help me with pre-wedding stuff and…you know, throw me the sweetest bachelorette party _ever_. Can you do that?"

Her big, friendly eyes and hopeful voice are the only thing keeping from bursting to tears right here and now. I can't do it – I can't be the maid of honor in Stefan's wedding. I just want to crawl in a hole and weep for days. But as she reaches for my hand and strokes my palm with her thumb, I know I'll cave in eventually. This is nothing but karma, already getting back on me for going through with my evil, twisted plan, which won't even work.

"Of course I can." As I nod, she bounces on her sit and grabs both of my hands.

Before she can hug me, Anna notices I'm on the verge of tears and reminds us of our tight work schedule. "Lunch break's almost over. We should get going."

We pay and get out. Caroline encircles my shoulders and stares right ahead, transfixed by happiness. "If I hadn't booked you, Stefan would have put you in a suit and named you his best woman, _I swear_." She uses her hands and gets in front of me, suddenly serious. "I really love Stefan."

_There_ it is. Damon wasn't lying – he did meet her yesterday and she does have doubts, no matter how tiny those are. The way she stated _that – _she isn't telling me, she's telling herself. She's convincing herself. Am I relieved or even more horrified? I feel like I've entered a labyrinth with no way out, so I just nod and fight with my tears for a while longer. Caroline nods too, coming to her senses.

"Do you want to join us for dinner tonight? We've been watching reruns of _Lost_ all week long."

_I'd love to, but I plan on getting extra drunk_. "I have something to do with…Anna." I give Anna, who is quietly talking to Bonnie, a warning look and she hurries to nod.

"Yes, that _thing_ – skateboarding."

"_Skateboarding?"_

I give Anna a 'what-the-fuck' look and she just shrugs, panicked. She's an even worse liar than I am. As always, Bonnie is the one to save us – her calmness undisturbed. "Is that Isobel? _Shit_, we're late – see you, Caroline!"

We hurry after her, crossing the street without a glance back, blocking Caroline's protests. Once we're inside one of the elevators, I turn to Anna. "You should have gone for mountain climbing." I try to sound sarcastic, but my breathless voice doesn't come out right.

All she does is shrug. "I sometimes wish I didn't know about your feelings for Stefan. They're nothing but trouble and they're fucking up your life; just saying."

* * *

_1 Year Ago_

"_So, let me get this straight. You're in love with your childhood best friend, who has been dating your college roommate and friend for a year now and has no idea how you feel about him."_

_I felt like sharing with her, too. Bonnie already knew and our work relationship with Anna was steadily growing into friendship, so I thought, _the hell with it. _I wasn't telling Stefan – my seven year longing was eating me up from the inside. I could use two trustworthy people to confess my majorly screwed up, one-sided love life to. _

"_That pretty much sums it up, yeah." _

_Anna stared at me and then looked at Bonnie, who confirmed my words with a nod. She'd already met Caroline and wasn't too excited with the situation, but what could she do about it? The heart wants what the heart wants. Plus, she'd sworn in secrecy and complete understanding, no matter what, and Bonnie always kept her word. _

"_That is some serious, fucked up, One Tree Hill kind of drama you've got going on." She stated, not too preoccupied with my feelings. I'd already decided I loved that about Anna – her sheer sincerity was a good thing. "Well, what are you planning to do about those fucking feelings of yours?"_

"_What she always does – nothing." Bonnie intervened, glaring at me. I shrink in my sit, embarrassed and miserable. "The whole, unrequited love thing feeds her poetic soul."_

"_You don't get it." I whispered what, for the next years, would become my mantra. _

"_Obviously." Anna laughed. "Please, fill me in. I'm genuinely interested as to why you're not trying to move on."_

_I looked down at my kitchen floor. "I'm a chicken, ok? I've always been too scared of rejection and now he has a serious girlfriend and I don't want to ruin this for him. I didn't tell you so you could bombard me with advice."_

"_Why'd you tell us then?"_

"_Oh, I figured it out on my own, she didn't tell me anything." Bonnie proudly said and Anna rolled her eyes at the totally-not-the-point- fact. _

"_Fine, why'd you tell me?" she corrected._

_I sighed and went for the truth. "I trust you guys. I wanted you to know. This secret is eating me alive. I was hoping you could be here for me," when Bonnie tried to talk, I hurried to add, "_silently._"_

* * *

I'm on the process of finishing my third glass of tequila, when someone knocks on my door; one, hard, powerful knock. I sloppily wipe my tear-stained face clean and get on my feet, stumbling lightly. When did I become this shell of a person? I almost certainly didn't expect to spend my nights alone and drunk when I first moved here. I did love him then, too, but the feeling hadn't turned into a life-shattering problem and I sure as hell wasn't planning to allow it to. Everyone around me can see I'm one stage away from self humiliation and degradation – everyone but me.

I open the door, already knowing – and kinda anticipating – whose blue eyes will greet me. He's leaning against the doorframe, looking like he just got out of _GQ_'s cover, with a lazy expression stamped on his face. I struggle to frown and keep my eyes open.

"I don't remember inviting you."

He gives me one swift, disapproving look before answering cockily. "And I don't remember saying I'll be staying."

"Good, cause I'm not the best company in the world right now." I back up inside and let him in for whatever reason he's here for. I sit on a chair and, like a head-strong, over-spoiled baby, stare at him expectedly. Drunk too, but it doesn't quite match up with spoiled baby.

"That's an understatement. You know," he points at my huge T-shirt clad form and tequila holding hand, "this whole depressive-suicidal-dark kind of thing you've got going on? It's all a bunch of crap."

Well, it obviously is but who does _he_ think he is? Except from a good-looking, apparently talented with words, Yale fucking graduate? None of this gives him the right to stride in my apartment and talk me out of my depression. It's the only thing I've got left, really. "Can we get to the point?" I raise a brow, hoping to sound bored rather than trashed.

"What point?" He laughs, pitying me, forcing me to turn red with anger. "You're so far off the point, it's ridiculous. What are you doing Elena?"

_Look at him, talking down on me like he cares. _"I'm getting trashed with the alcohol _I_ – as in _adult_ Elena – bought legally just across the street."

"I don't get it. You're supposedly in love – _so_ in love, in fact, that you're willing to risk everything to get that douche to realize it. This has nothing to do with crippling guilt, has it?" He smirks knowingly. "You're realizing how fucked up this whole thing is, your patience is coming to an end and you want to just _fuck him already_."

_Bingo, Yale genius. _

My shoulders fall submissively and I give in to his well-thought accusations. "Why are you here Damon?"

He apparently decides to give me a break too. "I'm heading to work, but I thought I'd stop by and discuss a convenient time for our Caroline 101 lectures."

Wait, work – at eleven o'clock? Can't he go to work in the morning like normal people do? What is it with him breaking every norm of society and being over secretive about it? At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if he told me he was with the CIA.

But I'm too drunk to get into that – not that I want to or anything. "Well, since I work every _morning_, like most people do, I guess you could stop by every afternoon?"

"You want me to stop by _every_ afternoon? Someone's desperate already."

Through the drunken haze, I'm still pretty sure his big, fat-ass ego isn't going anywhere. "Don't you have some kind of work to attend to?"

He rolls his eyes in annoyance and heads for the door. I could let him go and spend the rest of the night going over his ability to piss me off completely, but then again, I'm getting pretty competent in misusing my drunken state, so what the hell? "Are you a gigolo?"

That stops him on his heels. He turns around, his grin spread wide on his handsome face. "That'd fuel up the sex dreams you've been having about me, I'm sure."

Yeah, of course he'd turn my thought over, embarrassing comment to his advantage. He's smart like that – _all Yale-y_. "Don't flutter yourself. Everything about you matches up with the job description."

He places a hand on his chest and I'm faced with suddenly hard, judging eyes. "If you must know, I'm a male nurse at City's Hospital and I'm kinda late for my midnight shift right now."

_Okay_… with the expression he's wearing, he can't be lying and I'm officially the shittiest, most awkward and now sober person alive. "I am _so_ sorry."

One little flicker of a smile. "Well, yeah, you should be. That'll teach you not to walk around calling people gigolos and shit. Not that I have anything against the profession – _obviously._"

"Really though, Damon? A _male nurse_?" as honest as his expression is, it just doesn't click at all; especially after that Internet article and well…everything about him.

I stare at him disbelievingly and we enter a contest of '_who'll be the last to blink'_ for a while. Then he's back to cocky, old, him. "_Yeah_…no; scrubs are disgusting, hospitals smell and, in my opinion, be the best of whatever you are. Male nurses are men who failed in being doctors. But, let me just say, the look on your face…_priceless_."

I find a flip flop and throw it at him. He easily dodges it, while shaking with laughter. I inhale and exhale a couple of times, just so I don't suffocate of anger. "You know, some honesty would be nice. This whole mysterious thing is getting old."

Still laughing, he holds his arms up in surrender. "Ok, _ok, _I'll be honest since you're pouting. Rick and I own a bar downtown – it's nothing huge – and I need to go meet a couple of people who are interested in expanding the place."

Something to do with Yale, twenty-six and dashing, owns something – kinda like a businessman…yeah, now _that_ clicks. That information finally clicks just right. I can even picture him in a suit – hell, come to think of it, I can picture him in anything; even if that particular anything is ugly-looking scrubs.

"Earth to Elena…" He waves a hand in front of me and laughs amusingly. "You ok there pumpkin?"

"Sorry." I fix my eyes, completely self aware. "I guess I've underestimated you, _big time_."

"I half-own a _bar_ Elena, not a Forbes 100 company." He seems uneasy with the idea of himself being anything remotely serious and accomplished. He doesn't brag or look smug about anything other than his passion, liveliness and ability to connect with people – aka, me. I kinda dig that too. "Rick does all the managing actually. I just hang around, attracting customers and all."

I laugh – first genuine, good-natured laugh in way too long. The sound almost chokes me, so I rush to get him out of here. "I'm keeping you."

I see him giving me a curious look and lopsided smile that turn my knees to jelly. Let's blame that, too, on the alcohol. "Yeah, Rick's probably digging my grave right now." I need to meet this Rick person. He doesn't take a step out though. "You want to join me?" Here we go with that lopsided, generally genuine smile again.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea…" –which really means '_I haven't been out in forever, it's Monday night and I might scare people with the way I look; especially standing next to your ridiculously good looking, photoshoped figure.' _

"You're already getting drunk – might as well do it with style. Plus, I think Rick will give me a break in the presence of a lady. I hope so."

"I'll need some time to look…_ladylike_." I mutter, rolling my eyes and waving at my scary outfit. And, wow, _am I agreeing to this?_ When did party animal Elena resurfaced? I thought I'd left her in Mystic Falls, fifteen years of old and clueless to all the drama and pain. So I thought.

"Eh, Rick can handle another hour alone. _Just_, save me from his wrath, ok?"

"I'll try my best." I nod all willingly. _What the hell am I doing?_ What's next God damn it, flirting with the guy I've kinda hired to seduce my friend enough so I can steal her fiancé? Too sick to even think this through, so I turn my attention to Damon, who's already sitting – his nose in a book. "Will you be alright for a while, 'till I change?"

"Yeah," he waves absently, "I'll just read _Naked Lunch._"

I notice that's exactly the book he's holding and halt into place, completely unable to hold back a _huge_ grin. "You've read that?"

"I tried once, while sober – failed miserably. Then I went for it while high; I've got to say, it made all the difference. I know it by heart now."

I lean against the wall, completely mesmerized. Not only did he pretty much describe _my_ way of handling that rollercoaster of a book, but he also made it very clear he was _deep_ – like, street-smart _and_ book-smart. And gorgeous and with a sense of humor – something's wrong. He can't be sporting all the extra qualities I've been hoping Stefan could master, just like that. It's not fair.

"Tick tock, Elena. My ass is on the line here."

"Right; _right_, I'll be fast."

"_Faster!_" He shouts, as I rush in my bedroom.

Once I'm inside, I panic. Fuck me and my casual, every-day clothes bullshit. Caroline Forbes has one thing right – every girl needs _at least_ three pairs of heels. Me? Thank god I still own one from my glory-Elena-days collection.

"_You want some help in there?" _He teases and yeah, I smile one big, dorky smile.

* * *

A/N: _Yeah, you all hate me, I know. I hate me too. This was supposed to come out way sooner but – hear me out ok? – I was kind lost reading other people's great fan fiction and had to update my other story and yeah…*dodges rotten tomatoes*_

_Last chapter got like 20 reviews, which was WOW! Still grinning like crazy and, let me just say, I enjoyed every one of them – the good and the bad. For all of you who don't much support Elena's actions and pointed that out, I just want to say that I like keeping my characters real. And in the reality I live in, people sometimes go out of character to get things they want (obsess over). But, as long as they have the right people to show them the light (cough*Damon*cough) they'll be ok. Also, some of you gave some pretty awesome ideas and yeah *SPOILER ALERT* Damon has a secret agenda because he's…Damon. _

_I'm going to stop now. I still ship Caroline-Stefan and Delena, so no worries. They're just in for a ride. Next chapter is kinda Delena heavy. And I promise I'll make it soon! I deserve not to be reviewed this time, I know. I still hope you enjoy. Yours, S. _

_P.S. Notice how Damon gets Elena's book weird choices and stuff, unlike Stefan. I just love the details – they make all the difference. And for all of you who've read Naked Lunch…you know what I mean by 'rollercoaster of a book.'_


	5. Monday night fever

**Monday night fever**

****_"They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered..." - F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

I feel giddiness wash all over me as I step out of Damon's Camaro. Desperate or not, hopelessly in love or otherwise, I'm still a romantic at heart – or, at least, a part that hasn't been corrupted by selfishness and cruel intentions is. Right now, there's nothing better than heading in a bar, dressed in a little black dress – I know, it came as a surprise I had it, to me too – with Damon walking confidently beside me.

While I'm at it, I can even forget the reason I wanted to get drunk in the first place and try and enjoy myself.

"_Rick's?"_ I ask as we head closer to the entrance and I read the sign above our heads. "It seems like he's stolen your thunder."

Damon rolls his eyes but looks overall pleased with my renewed humor and energies. No need to tell him I'm more pleased than he is. _Sgt Paper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ has been my life's soundtrack for some time now and, in fear it will continue to be, I think one night of carelessness won't do anyone harm.

"His name's up there, but I'm the one who keeps all the clients coming." He does a weird, equally obnoxious and charming eye thing that almost has me giggling – _almost_. "If you know what I mean."

"All I know is that someone has your self-esteem boosted a bit too high."

"_Everyone." _ He clarifies, as he opens the door to let me inside the bar.

I'd love to throw him a dirty look, but he's already talking to someone in a charming, witty voice and I'm too busy looking busy – not that I'm relieved he's chatting with a guy instead of a girl or anything. On to ignoring the disturbing smugness I feel due to my entrance with _him,_ I take in my surroundings and instantly decide I like _Rick's_. Unlike other NY bars I've been made to frequent through the years, it's cozy and familiar in here. Nothing too high-tech and no abstract paintings, that absolutely no one gets despite claiming otherwise, on the walls. No, there isn't a trace of snobbism and the overall need to impress and sell oneself in the air and that is something I can respect. Hence, I can respect the unknown Rick and oh-so-known-Damon for giving me a new favorite bar.

Some intelligent looking people are sitting in comfortable chairs talking, despite the music and late hour. Others are at the bar, drinking and successfully getting drunk – where I'm heading, thank you very much. But there's a dance floor too, which is being used by most, and it stirs a forgotten feeling of excitement in me. I start making my way to the bar, but a gentle yet firm grip, which can only belong to Damon, halts me.

"What do you think?" His voice is soft, smile gentle and eyes curious. Yet another side I haven't seen or even guessed he has.

"I like it," I sincerely reciprocate, "it reminds me of my hometown. New York gets overwhelming at times."

He nods and looks around. "That's what half of the crowd appreciates about the place. The other half just wants to get drunk."

I laugh and, standing in the top of the stairs leading to the bar and dance floor, get forced, by a stream of newly comers, to move closer to him. I don't allow myself the excitement his smirk instinctively gives me. I keep it serious. "You must have good alcohol then."

_Just so you know, you're not the reason I'm here – alcohol is; right. _

"That goes without saying." He gives one swift, innocent touch at the small of my back – I give one needy, quiet whimper in return. "But first, you're coming with me."

_Dominating much? Is he like this in other areas as well? _Dear God, I'm clearly over thinking things I shouldn't even be remotely curious about. How can I feel consuming attraction for someone I've literally hired and don't know that much of? I'm Jackie O, not Marilyn. I don't do passionate and spontaneous and I've been ok with that for a long time. And if my latest doings have the slightest hints of 'bitch' in them, I'm still only going after what I deserve. All's fair in love and war and all that. So, put an end to this stupid sexual attraction toward Damon – fucking over; _finito_.

With all these thoughts mind-fucking me while Damon's arm is still resting lightly on my arm, I blink and realize I'm standing by a hidden table, in the far end of the bar, and facing an attractive, older man I'm guessing is named Rick. He closes his laptop and downs his drink, before glaring at Damon, obviously annoyed. He notices me then and his face comically changes into one graced with wonder, amusement and raw curiosity. His stare is intimidating but I return it until he smirks a little and looks back at his friend.

"It's not going to work." He informs Damon with certainty, apparently understanding his little trick of using me as distraction for his unpunctuality.

"What won't?" The innocence of his tone is funny and a clear indicator that they're sharing an inside joke or secret. I remove my weight from one torturous heel to another and enviously glance at Rick's empty glass. "We both know it already has."

Rick rolls his eyes and gives Mr. Mysterious at my side a, now serious, look. I feel like I'm being objectified, so I turn to Damon with what I hope is a rebelled expression. "Care to share?"

He shrugs and sits down. "Don't mind him. He's jealous because he wants me all to himself."

Egomaniac tendencies? – Check. Humiliating humor? – Check. Wetness pooling between my legs because of the relaxed smile he's now wearing? – Double check. This is _so_ very bad.

Rick decides it's time to stop the mockery and properly introduce himself. "I'm Alaric," I shake his hand and smile, "heterosexual, good hearted person that puts up with Damon's bullshit. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Elena, desperately in need of a drink. It's nice to meet you too."

His smile is warm and understanding and he punches Damon on the arm, successfully forcing him to go get us drinks. I sit down, strangely at ease in the company of a stranger and Damon, and while eagerly waiting for whatever drink coming, I let my investigative side take over.

"I can't count on Damon to tell me why my presence here is such a big deal." _So, I hope you do;_ If he only takes the hint.

Apparently, Rick's a smart, intuitive man. He masks the surprise my boldness causes him and warily filters his response. While staring at Damon, who's waiting for drinks at the bar, let's note. "Not a big deal exactly. I'm just not used to him making an entrance with a girl; he usually picks them on the way out. He caught me off guard, I guess." He rolls his eyes knowingly. "Which, I bet, was exactly what he wanted, right?"

I smile sheepishly. Alaric's dirty blonde hair and warm brown eyes remind me of my father. He radiates warmness and supportiveness – the genuine assurance that he's someone you can count on. A raw longing for Jenna, Jeremy and my parents' graves takes over me and I mentally scold myself for promising Stefan I wouldn't go back there.

"Who are you, exactly?"

As in, who are you to Damon. How do I answer that? Am I his employer? Surely, I put Isobel's bitchy attitude and cruel character in shame, judging by the type of 'job' I've hired Damon for. Am I his friend, maybe? Some friend, acknowledging his sex-appeal and charm despite loving someone else – better not go for that either.

I stutter for words, helplessly looking for an anchor to hold on to, when Damon comes back holding a glass of bourbon and, handing me the glass with a smirk, a red colored cocktail I recognize. "_Bloody Mary_?" I ask, eager to escape Alaric's question – see, who said alcohol is good for nothing?

"Slutty Mary, actually." He sits down next to me. "Extra vodka added."

I take a sip on the deliciousness of it and nod appreciatively. "What about me?" Rick's revolted voice makes me grin.

"You get your own drink. And while you're at it, grow some balls and ask Meredith on a date already."

Ricks eyes widen comically and I put off getting completely wasted for a while, suddenly interested at their verbal interaction. "Is she here?"

Damon bursts to laughter at his friend's admittedly nervous reaction and stretches his arms behind him, throwing it at the back of my chair. "She's here every night you clueless fucker. And, it might come as a shock to you, I know, she's not here for me." Both Alaric and I roll our eyes. "You own the place, she digs your widowed professor look – are you against sex or something?"

I momentarily think Rick's going to make a move, but then he just looks at his hands and shakes his head. "I don't really need a drink."

Damon looks like he's about to take his shoe off and throw it at him. The way Rick just sits in front of me, though, head lowered in a typical teenage pose, makes me want to reach out and pat his back reassuringly. It reminds me of my self, too. I know a thing or two about being unable to express feelings and such – hell, I could run a university course about it.

When I see Damon open his mouth again, I lightly press my hand at the nearest part of him – happens to be his thigh, what's a girl to do? – and shush him.

"Let it go, Damon." Rick looks up with a cooperative smile and Damon, as if reading my loser mind, gives me a knowing, soft look. Ok, becoming a pity case in a tight dress is far off my aim. "I can go bring you something to drink, I want to move anyway. What would you like?"

Rick's now downright grateful while Damon just lets his eyes appreciatively roam over my body. He's not even subtle about it – not that I expected any of that from him. "Bourbon and tell Jamie it's for Rick."

I nod and let them talk about the business meeting Damon missed earlier tonight. I settle between the woman Damon addressed as Meredith, while he was teasing Rick, and a group of guys ordering shots. I see Jamie – Bonnie's Starbucks crush for two years now – behind the counter and smile a little. I just found Bonnie's favorite bar too, without her even knowing. Sure, I'll be assisting her to take stalking to a whole new lever, since the little hypocrite hasn't mustered the courage to talk to him either, but, overall, I think she'll be pleased. At least he's not happily engaged – he can't be, with having two works and university to attend. Thank Facebook for the freely given information.

He serves the group of guys and I glance at Meredith. She's petite and classy and would probably look good with Alaric. She sips at her gin tonic at a snail's pace and throws repetitive looks at Rick's direction. She hasn't recognized me as the girl sitting on their table, because she obviously has eyes for Rick only. The fan girl inside me officially ships them and I know I'm goofily smiling, when Jamie moves in front of me.

"What can I get you?"

_Right; snap out of it, dork._ "Bourbon. For Rick, please."

He smiles knowingly and reveals a hidden bottle of what I guess is extremely expensive stuff. Being the owner must have some perks, after all, and Damon and Rick both look like they take their liquor seriously. I see Meredith now focused on Jamie, probably dying to find out something – _anything_ – but I don't want to do Rick any harm so I stay quiet.

"You're Elena, right?" Jamie asks, surprising the shit out of me.

I nod and take the glass of bourbon. "How do you know?" Maybe we haven't been so discreet in helping Bonnie stalk him after all. I'm short of excuses already.

"I work at the Starbucks you buy your coffee every morning – the one next to Isobel's agency?"

I act like it doesn't come to me straight away – because that's what I'm supposed to do, right? I'm sweating like a pig in the inside, already dreading what Bonnie will do to me if I let something I shouldn't slip.

"Oh, yes. That's…me; I work there."

Dear God, don't let him see through my stuttering and nervously clenching facial muscles.

"You walk in every morning, at eight-thirty, with a black haired, Asian girl, I believe is called Anna and a brunette, whose name I unfortunately don't know, because she always opts to stand by the door and wait."

I have to admit; he's charming, well-mannered and obviously not dead to the world, like Bonnie convinces herself so she doesn't have to talk to him. "That's Bonnie." I clear my throat, hoping I'm doing the right thing. "The brunette, I mean."

He smiles, pleased. "Well, I hope I see the three of you here, sometime soon."

He means Bonnie and, yes, I'll drag her here if I have to. "It was nice officially meeting you, Jamie."

Fuck. Fucking fuck, how the hell do I justify knowing his name? I mentally slap myself with all five fingers and hope to God he didn't hear me over the loud music – wishful thinking. If he did, he doesn't let me know. "Nice meeting you too."

I'm in such a hurry to leave; I almost stumble on the way back to the table. Damon sees me coming and gives the papers he's examining back to Rick, shrugging and nodding at whatever he's saying. I put the drink on the table, earning a thank you from Rick and sit with my face between my palms, trying to ease the blush coming from humiliation and Damon's scrutinizing gaze.

"Alaric's curious about you. He's investigating." He states bluntly. "Like the gentleman I am, I was waiting for you to rejoin us, before I let any information slip."

I grin at the charming bullshit that his sexy voice delivers. "Elena works for a models' agency." He lets Alaric know. "She was the receiving end of our little dare."

Rick rolls his eyes and barks a laugh, aware of Damon's photo being sent in our agency just for the kicks of it. Not that _I_ am complaining. "Remind me not to _ever_ get drunk with you again."

"Pft; it's not my fault you turn to Mr. Hyde whenever you drink." He chuckles and turns to me, hand cupping his mouth confidentially and excluding him from the conversation. Yet, his voice is loud enough for Rick to hear perfectly. "Completely different person – I suspect it to be the reason he can't muster the courage to ask that poor lady out."

Rick shoots daggers at him. They are the epitome of adolescent carelessness and teasing – which is weird, taking their age into consideration. It's weird talking all of our ages into consideration, actually; because I, too, am enjoying the sight of their evident bromance way too much.

"As the receiving end of your little dare," I butt in the conversation, "I offered Damon the spot for a modeling campaign, only to be faced with mocking and the cruel realization of his lie."

Damon looks smug but Rick rolls his eyes and takes a long sip of his bourbon. "I assure you; you saved someone from having to work with Damon. This coming from the person who had to face a mind fucking meeting, with some incredibly dull people, without the co-owner of the place here."

"Hush now, Rick." He mocks and, dear God _why, _moves his own elbows on the table – allowing our forearms to touch. Slutty Mary, he said my drink was called? Yeah, it's definitely getting to me.

"You love playing boss." His raised eyebrows dare Rick to disagree, but he just smirks and nods. "What Elena meant, was that she was faced with a pleasant person, who offered her some friendly advice."

He doesn't wait for my approval to clarify Rick's puzzled look. "She's having relationship problems." He says conspiratorially and I blush, instantly.

Rick gives him a look – a look made of thousands of words; one that has my already triggered curiosity for Damon's persona nudging my insides painfully. I read his face without a problem: _You're the last person who should be giving relationship advice. _I don't know if Damon's receiving that look from his best friend because of his obvious man-whoreness, or if there's another reason Rick thinks Damon is incapable of dealing with relationships. I don't have time to ponder on my thoughts. They exchange whatever it is non-verbally and, soon enough, Rick stands.

"It was nice meeting you, Elena. Don't hesitate to drop by, even if without Damon."

I smile warmly and shake his hand. "It was a pleasure Rick. I'll make sure to visit."

I follow his way out. He stops to wish Jamie goodnight, exactly next to where Meredith is sitting. He shakes Jamie's hand and I even see him laugh with something he's saying. Meredith's blushing profusely. He's giving her hell – not deliberately, I'm sure. After some moments and longing stares from her side, Rick disappears. Five minutes pass before Meredith pays and exits with a sad look on her face. I suddenly feel very depressed.

Damon's staring at me with saucer huge eyes. "Pretty fucked up, huh?"

I shrug. Observing the situation from a third person's point of view, it does seem fucked up. And their relationship – if you can call it that – isn't remotely as complicated as mine is. Yet…I get it and I can never be a third, unbiased party, giving opinion. So, instead, I decide to change the subject.

"What was with the look Rick gave you?"

He poses a typical, inconsiderate smirk. "He knows me too well. He's well aware that, A – I don' do friendship with girls and B – I'm the worst person to be giving advice on any subject. Hence he didn't buy our little story." He takes note of my worried look. "Not that it matters," he rushes to reassure, "Rick's not one of those nosey little fuckers."

My drink has come to an end. I have nowhere to avert my eyes while talking to him. It's unfortunate, really, being tipsy and finding yourself in the dilemma of giving in to eye-candy and not giving in to the lust that said eye-candy causes.

I can play with my hands and my dress. That's harmless enough.

"I know nothing about you." I suddenly say – rush out. It's not like I just realized _that_, but I did just realize that I care enough to ask.

"That's a shame. I'm quite an interesting person."

I look up, expecting that smug little grin, and I'm faced with amusement and sparkly blue eyes. I laugh a little. It's all too surreal. We're in a bar – his bar – and I bet there's a myriad of girls waiting to literally mark him, but sitting in this private little corner, with his eyes focused on me, gives me a raw feeling of satisfaction.

"Did you go to college?" I recall his name at Yale's archives and just go for it.

_Don't be too surprised if he lies. Don't be disappointed either. _

"Yale." He nods emotionlessly. "I studied law. And, spoiler alert, I even graduated."

Pride takes over me at the simple acceptance of the truth. "You don't seem too happy about it."

"I loathe institutions and such. Real rebel." He winks and suddenly rises to his feet, extending a hand. "Come on. I like this song."

I follow him. What the hell, I'm going to dance, and all be damned. Who am I to deny a perfectly nice _Maroon 5_ song? He stops somewhere in the middle of the dance floor and smiles to a girl sitting at a table nearby. They obviously know each other and, judging by the smile on her face, she'll come and personally greet him. I stop in my track, allowing some space, but Damon's having none of that. He places both hands on my waste, showing no interest to converse with others. Yeah, I'm fluttered, ok? I might as well turn to jelly at any moment.

"Do you ever let yourself have fun?" he asks and I notice he's keeping a safe distance. With one hand on my back and one lightly holding my hand, he's even teasing with safe-dancing. Part of me is thankful.

"I haven't had the luxury for a very long time." I truthfully confess, possessed by the mouth-watering smell of his cologne.

With one swift movement, he has the entire length of my body pressed against his. He might as well have planned it, because it's the exact moment the music changes to _Love Lockdown_. Though not a huge fan of Kanye West, I can still admit the song's beat and melody are sensual as hell.

"That's too bad." His husky voice makes my throat dry and lifelessly hanging at my side hands, sweaty. I don't know how to react at any of this, but he seems to have everything under control. His palms slide at the small of my back and he starts rubbing my fabric covered skin along with the timbre of the song. I sense his mouth close to my ear, but there's no creepy sighing or panting. Perfectly collected, he simply breaths – slow, normal intakes and outtakes of breath that give me goose bumps and _force_ me to take another step closer to his body. He moves his hands to my sides but lets me dictate the rhythm of our movement – not that I'm capable of doing any leading of any kind right now. When his right hand gently pushes part of my hair back so he can have better access to my neck, my own hands come to life and reach for his shoulders. His broad, sinfully muscled shoulders…I shudder and allow contact with his eyes. Dark and compelling, they're the sole reason I allow him to rest his palms on my ass and nudge me flush to him. I'm scared and impatient and drowning in nothingness. I burry my fingers in his hair for support, as he lowers his head to my neck and places one soft kiss behind my ear. The song is coming to an end and I'm suddenly terrified – terrified that I'll snap out of this magic and will be forced to reality without taking something; _something_ I'm craving, something that's solely Damon.

Knowingly enough, the song comes to an end the moment he slightly leans in. I blink and it's gone – the haze, the magic and the recklessness. The excitement is still there – so is the horniness. But now, Stefan's memory has been added to the equation, making my insides quiver in guilt.

"I can't do this." My whisper is enough to return Damon's dark eyes back to their normal blue and replace the previously serious face with a smirk. He even lets me take a step back.

He still asks, though, out of curiosity. "Why not?"

"I'm in love with someone else. And you're supposed to be helping me with something _else_, in case you've forgotten."

He rolls his eyes. "I haven't, but don't expect me to give up sex while trying to seduce Caroline Forbes."

His harsh tone hurts a little but I don't flinch. "You can pursue it somewhere else – _anywhere_ else," I sound desperate, I'm aware. But thinking of how close I came to dry-humping him in the middle of the dance floor, I need to make sure it doesn't happen again, "as long as you don't go back on our agreement."

"No worries." He sounds cold and a bit hurt, but that surely can't be. Can it?

I shrug it off, too preoccupied with my own feelings being damaged if I stand here with him for a bit longer.

"I have to get going. I'll hardly be able to wake up for work tomorrow."

"You need a ride?" He's practically begging me to refuse.

"I can take a cab."

He follows me to the exit and waits until I wear my jacket. "So, evenings for our little teaching sessions, right?" I nod and step outside, without a goodbye. I don't take two steps before hearing the door open and turning to see Damon follow me. "Have you ever considered that maybe; _just maybe_, it's not expressing your feelings that you're scared of but change? It seems to me you're terrified to let go of something you've familiarized yourself with." A brief pause occurs. "_Well_, have you? Considered it?"

"No."

He gives a little laugh and nods. "Right, right; I'm the worst relationship advisor. Goodnight Elena."

He goes inside without a look back and I'm left with the heaving weight of doubts.

* * *

_4 Days Later_

"You listening?"

"Yes, me listening. Gee."

"You've been playing with that ball for the past hour; it feels like I'm talking to myself."

He smirks from where he's fully spread on the couch. "I listen with my ears, not my hands. Here, try me."

He rests the tennis ball on the table next to the couch and looks down to where I'm sitting on the floor. I kinda wish I could take a candid of the way he's so freely laying on my couch, with that lazy smile on his face, looking like he belongs there. Stupid, really – Stefan's the only one that belongs there.

"Fine; which is Caroline's favorite color?"

"Green – the _blah_ color."

I hope my incredulous look lets him know his _I-have-an-opinion-about-everything_ tendencies are wearing me out. "What about her favorite movie?"

"_The Notebook_, of course." He rolls his eyes and then glances at my poor DVD collection. "What is it with you girls and kissing in the rain? You do realize it's like purposefully asking for bronchopneumonia, right?"

"Most girls would risk getting cancer for something that romantic."

"Yes, because mixing spit with water is _that _romantic." He looks at me. "Wait, _most_ girls? What, you don't drool when Gosling yells like a maniac in the middle of a tornado?"

His accurate description of the movie makes me laugh. "You a secret fan?"

"The female lead is hot. Answer the question."

I shrug. "I think building her the house of her dreams was enough. No need for dramatics."

"What's _your_ favorite movie?"

He's been this un-cooperative for the past three days, which were also spent analyzing Caroline's personality in detail. His questions are starting to get obnoxious, because I'm simply not familiarized with sharing. "It's not important, Damon."

He throws the tennis ball on the wall right over my head, only for it to hop back into his hands. He laughs at my shock and indignation and shrugs in an _I-want-to-know_ fashion. So much like an over-spoiled child…

"_V for Vendetta_; my favorite move is _V for Vendetta_. Can we move on, now?"

"You are the first woman _ever_ to even mention that movie." He seems genuinely surprised, which is easy to tell because, in his case, his eyes get all huge and beautiful and kind of sparkly. Kinda like my stomach right now.

"Is this a compliment?"

"I'll let you know after you tell me why it is your favorite."

"I guess…I mean, I know – I know that I _love_ the way Evey fell in love with the man behind the mask. Revolutionary motives and political crap aside, it's all about this great love story, you know?"

He stares at me – really _stares_, with those drowning pools of beauty, and I'm sent back to the bar on Monday night and the way his breath felt behind my ear. Looking at him now is like the first time I heard of _The Beatles_. Before I get to overwhelmed, he blinks and nods and I snap out of it.

"Next question."

"What's her favorite book?"

For the first time, he seems lost. "_The Twilight Saga_?"

"No, Damon, that was just a passing faze – you can mention it was one for you too, when you re-accidentally-meet her. Now; her actual favorite book?"

"I don't remember." He sighs and fails to meet my eyes.

"Of course not; because when I was telling you about the literature courses she took while in NYU, you were too busy re-organizing my entire book collection."

"It's not my fault you had them tossed around on the floor," he raises both hands in defense, "waiting to be categorized. You need a maid or something."

"Yeah, when I have my own bar, I'll see to it. Until then, I'll let you know that her favorite book is _Love at the Time of Cholera."_

Again, he looks surprised, only this time in Caroline's favor and I'm less than thrilled. "That book isn't cheesy at all."

"She's helplessly romantic Damon, not overall stupid. She's graduated college and all _and_ had me as her roommate. I got her into all the reading and stuff. Oh, and while we're at it, what was her major?"

"Business administration; but she works as an event planner – would have loved to study broadcast journalism."

I smile, pleased. "Why didn't she?"

"Her control freak father had the little sunshine's future all mapped out. Long story short, he practically _made_ her major in what _he_ wanted."

"It goes deeper than that –

"I bet it does…"

"–But it'll do for now. If you two hit it on, she'll trust you with her daddy issues, herself." I get lost at the stupid board Damon brought, so we could draw a cycle with Caroline's name in the middle and her interests all around it, and stay quiet for a while. If Caroline trusts Damon enough to confide her family drama with him, it'll mean she really likes him. Not only will I be distancing her from Stefan but I'll be also forcing her to fall in love with someone who'll never love her back – such a crappy person I've become.

"I think it's more than enough info for the 'accidental' meeting tomorrow." He snaps me out of my haze.

He insists I drag her to _Barnes and Noble_ with me, where he'll just happen to be on a Saturday morning.

"Yes, about that meeting. Why, again, won't you just call her?"

"Because, _Elena_, one freaking movie isn't enough common ground for me to take her on a date – if I called her, she'd downright refuse, even though she's been thinking about the mysterious stranger who just happened to enjoy cheesy movies. Another accidental meeting while checking out the same book, on the other hand…that'll do the trick."

"And what if she wants to know why you haven't called her?"

"I'll say that I didn't want to be creepy. Then, I'll fix my _mistake_ by offering coffee right at that instant, while randomly asking about her opinion on _Love at the Time of Cholera_."

He winks and I can picture the scene happening so vividly in my head, that I can't help but admire his self-confidence and well-thought plan. "You're good at this."

"Among other things I'm good at." He wiggles his eyebrows. "So, I'll be at _Barnes and Noble _at around eleven tomorrow. Don't be late and make yourself scarce behind a shelf of Russian Literature or something."

"I know where I'm not wanted." I dryly reply but he looks all innocent.

"She won't let herself relax with her fiancé's best friend around." He makes a very good point. "Pretend to be into something tedious and she'll wander around."

"Let's hope she doesn't end up at _How to Be the Perfect Bride_ section. It'll be quiet hard to justify your interest at _that_."

The look of sheer horror he gives, while unfortunately getting up and grabbing his jacket, makes me laugh. "Do those kinds of books even exist?"

"Nowadays, there's a book for _everything_ – literally." I walk him to the door, just like I have every evening for the past three days. "Goodnight, have fun at work and say hi to Rick for me."

He leans against the wall, eyes all smart and focused on me. "It's Friday night, Mary. Why don't you get into one of those tight dresses and come with me? I can have you home before midnight."

I hate that rejecting his offer makes me feel this bad. "I can't, I'm having dinner with Stefan tonight. Once a month, we make sure to try a new place out and catch up on everything."

He nods and opens the door. "Well, have fun. Do you even have fun, or has spending time with him turned into some stress inducing experience that leaves you craving alcohol?"

"Whoa, what's with the hate?"

Now outside on the hallway, he looks downright pissed. "From experience, love is supposed to make people happy and you don't look like the definition of happy to me – is all I'm saying."

I cross my arms over my chest and I'd have stomped my foot on the floor, if I wasn't twenty four and all. "I will be, once you play your part right."

It's my tone, or maybe my furious eyes, I can't know for sure, that make him nod curtly and drop the subject. "It was a compliment, by the way – when you told me about _V for Vendetta_ being your favorite movie and I said you were the first girl to ever say that?" he waits for me to do something, maybe acknowledge his words, but I just stare so he continues, "It was a compliment. I think it's awesome and…the whole thing about falling in love with the man behind the mask? Very perceptive of you."

There's the whole _lost-in-his-eyes_ feeling again.

"Good night Elena. See you tomorrow – or, I guess, you'll see me tomorrow. I'll just know you're there. Bye."

I choke a _bye_ out and shut the door behind me. I can't think about how I spent all Monday night and most of Tuesday thinking about our stupid dancing. I can't go over how fun spending my evening with him three days in a row, even though I had to lie to everyone and almost get fired in the process, has been. How glad I was when Bonnie got excited over Jamie and confirmed that we'll be hanging at _Rick's_ a lot more in the future, isn't important either.

I simply can't allow myself to admit that I'm happy when I simply talk to him, because then, probably, the world (my world) will fall off its axis.

* * *

A/N: _So, this is a long chapter and all Delena and I had fun writing it and I love having Elena slowly fall out of love but stubbornly holding on to the stupid obsession (see, she's not completely OOC. That's your typical TVD Elena.) And Damon charming Caroline is next, so that won't be too hard to write either. _

_Off to my lovely details, I made my favorite movie Elena's favorite movie. If you haven't seen V for Vendetta, I strongly recommend it! And I had one of my favorite books being Caroline's favorite book because I equally love her character. _

_Loved it, hated it, whatever – drop a line. Your thoughts make my day! Thank you for taking the time reading, yours S. _


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